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Illustrated Magazine 

For Young Folks. 


Part II. — May to October, 1910. 



Copyright, 1910, by The Century Co. 

The De Vinne Press. 

rNorui v^aicfiaii 




Six Months — May to October, 1910. 




Aeroplanes. How to Make and Fly Them. (Illustrated) Francis Arnold Collins . . . 880 

976, 1 105 

Almost Dinner-time. Picture 1065 

Apple-tree Hall. Verse. (Illustrated by Harriet A. Newcomb) Elisabeth R. MacDonald . . 1064 

Artist's Niece and Nephew, The. From a painting by William Thorne 1085 

At the Beach. Verse Clara Odell Lyon 902 

Attack, The. Picture 606 

Base-ball, After School, in Japan. Picture, drawn by a Japanese artist 835 

Beach, At the. Verse Clara Odell Lyon 902 

"Betty" Stories, More. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Carolyn Wells 

The Green Paper Doll 617 

The Chaplet of Honor 697 

An Independence Day Reception 793 

Betty Crusoe 910 

A Labor Day Luncheon 1003 

A Lucky Penny 1113 

Big-Game Country, Out in the. (Illustrated by the Author) Clarence H. Rowe 970 

Bird Call, A. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) E. Vinton Blake 675 

Blackberry Patch, The. Picture, drawn by H. M. Walcott 929 

Boarding for Birds. Picture, drawn by E. G. Lutz 787 

Bowl of a Teaspoon, The. Verse Deborah Ege Olds 1124 

Boy and the Bishop, The. (Illustrated by the Author) Harry Fenn 705 

Boy Who Forgets, The. Verse Pauline Frances Camp . . . 689 

Brown, Dr. John. ("A Friend of Children and of Dogs.") Rossiter Johnson 1009 

Brownies, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Palmer Cox 

The Brownies and the Baby-Carriages 729 

The Brownies and the Pure Milk Supply 828 

Bruce and the Spider. Picture 901 

Cesar's Captain. (Illustrated by Mayo Bunker) Capt. H. Hammond, U.S.A. 771 

Canary, What Is It? Verse. (Illustrated by Harriet A. Newcomb) Deborah Ege Olds 597 

Comet, Halley's. (Illustrated) A. Russell Bond 678 

Countess Concertina, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Charles F. Lester 764 

Cyclone, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) /. W. Taber 1052 

Daddy Do-funny's Wisdom Jingles. Verse. (Illustrated) Ruth McEnery Stuart . . . 695 


Daisy Chains. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Ethel Jackson 696 

Danny's Errand. Verse S. Virginia Levis 1052 

Dolls' Theatre, The. Verse. (Illustrated from a photograph) Patten Beard 836 

Emergency Corner, The Charlotte Brewster Jordan 860 


Erasmus Small, Surfman. (Illustrated by Percy E. Cowan) C. H. Claudy 930 

Evil Words. Verse Deborah Ege Olds 895 

Exception, An. Verse Nixon Waterman 1 1 10 

Fairies' May Night, The. Verse Emily P. Stickney 670 

Fairies' Phonograph, The. Pictures, drawn by Albertine Randall Wheelan 1072 



Fairy Airship, The. Picture, drawn by L. N. Umbstaetter 884 

Farewell Summer, Verse Cecil Cavendish 1068 

Feather-stitching. Picture, drawn by L. N. Umbstaetter 689 

Feeding the Puppies. Picture, drawn by Harriet R. Boyd 988 

Figureheads, Old. (Illustrated from photographs) Day Allen Willey 1102 

Firecrackers. (Illustrated from photographs) Erick Pomeroy 788 

Fishing for Minnows. Picture, drawn by Charles C. Curran 902 

Floral Arrangement, A. Verse Pauline Frances Camp . . . 924 

Flowers. Verse. (Illustrated by Harriet A. Newcomb) Deborah Ege Olds 597 

Foot-ball— A Game for Gentlemen. (Illustrated) Edward H. Coy 1075 

Foot-ball, The New Rules in. (Illustrated) Walter Camp 1073 

For Safety. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) P. B. Strum 1124 

Friend of Children and of Dogs, A. (Illustrated) Rossiter Johnson 1009 

Frog's Fiasco, The. Verse. (Illustrated and engrossed by Katharine M. 

Browne) D. K. Stevens 1092 

Giraffe, The. Picture, drawn by "Boz." 668 

"Good-by !" Picture 1077 

Halley's Comet. (Illustrated) A. Russell Bond 678 

Heard About the House Arthur Guiterman 681 

Home-builders, The. Verse. (Illustrated by G. A. Harker) Arthur Guiterman 587 

Honorable Surrender, An. (Illustrated by Edwin F. Bayha) M. B. Gookin . .'. 875 

How Tom Whitney Astonished the German Army. (Illustrated by Armand 

Both) E. S. P. Lipsctt 832 

Imps, Some Ugly Little. Verse Pauline Frances Camp . . . 786 

Information Wanted. Verse Nixon Waterman 1001 

Johnny-jump-up, Little. Verse Julia Grace Gilbert 723 

Jovial Twins, The. Verse. (Illustrated) Frederick Moxon 909 

Jungleville Air-ship, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) /. W. Taber 624 

Kingsford, Quarter. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Ralph Henry Barbour .... 609 

709, 820 

Kite Photography. (Illustrated from photographs) Prof. Robert W. Wood . . 726 

Kites, Big. (Illustrated from photographs) H. D. Jones 724 

Land of Must n't, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) L. J. Bridgman 708 

Last Day of School, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Emma Troth) 694 

League of the Signet-Ring, The. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Mary Constance Du Bois. 579^ 

682, 780, 885, 989,^1 of8 

Letter-boxes in Foreign Lands. (Illustrated from photographs) A. R. Roy 589 

Listen to the Rain. Verse Isabel Ecclestone Mackay . 836 

Little German Prince, A. (Illustrated from photographs) Edith Eltinge Pattou 738 

Little Hare of Oki, The. (Illustrated by A. Brennan) B. M. Burr ell 892 

Lobster General, The. Picture, drawn by E. G. Lutz 1019 

Luitpold, Prince. ("A Little German Prince.") 738 

Marooned on Seal Head Buoy. (Illustrated by Arthur T. Merrick) George Allan England .... 1059 

May-Queen, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Charles F. Lester 598 

Menagerie Vaudeville. Verse Frederick Moxon 874 

Merry Waltz in Animal-Land, A. Picture, drawn by "Boz." 668 

Message of the Clocks, The. Verse Ethel Humphrey 988 

Midsummer Query, A. Verse Helena Whitney Smith . . . 1053 

Molly and Polly. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) P. V. Strum 812 

Moon, The. Verse May Morgan 988 

Moth, The. Verse Alice Reid 968 

Multiplication. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Sarah K. Smith 800 

Narrow Escape, A. Picture 1063 

Naval Scenes, United States. Photographs 1028 

Nonsense Boy, The. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Charlotte Canty 867 

981, 1086 
Old Figureheads. (Illustrated from photographs) Day Allen Willey 1102 



Our Troubles. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Isabel Lyndall 837 

Out in the Big-Game Country. (Illustrated by the Author) Clarence H. Rowe 970 

Palos, A Letter from. (Illustrated from a photograph) Z. A. C 1 1 1 1 

Parental Thoughtfulness. Verse Eunice Ward 1101 

Party of the Second Part, The. (Illustrated by Gordon Grant) Pearl Howard Campbell . . 972 

Pets Picture 616 

Phonograph in Animal-land. Picture, drawn by "Boz." 668 

P:ck-a-Pack-a-Poo. Verse Deborah Ege Olds 1 124 

Playing Child to the Reader, The. Verse. (Illustrated by E. M. Wireman).£;;;;'/y Rose Burt 879 

"Please " Verse Eunice Ward 968 

Queer Pony-cart, A. ( Illustrated from a photograph) 805 

Race in Elfin-land. Picture, drawn by L. N. Umbstaetter 820 

Rat. The. Verse Deborah Ege Olds 715 

Reason or Instinct ? Verse Nixon Waterman 827 

Refugee, The. (Illustrated by Arthur Becher) Captain Charles Gilson . . . 626 

718,813,917, 1012, 1125 

Rejected. Verse. (Illustrated by Lee Miller) Doris Francklyn 958 

Rhyming Riddles. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Mildred Howells 716 

Robin of the Loving Heart. (Illustrated by Florence E. Storer) Emma Endicott Marcan . . 634 

Rooms. (Illustrated by Galen J. Perrett) Antoinette R. Perrett 

Girls' Rooms 593 

Boys' Rooms 9 2 5 

Salting Birdie's Tail. Verse Deborah Ege Olds 812 

Sewing Doll, The. Verse. (Illustrated from a photograph) Amelia De Wolff ers 779 

Shipwrecked Mouse, The. Picture, drawn by E. G. Lutz 1019 

Showing Off. Pictures, drawn by Edwin Levick 101 1 

Silent Sympathy, Picture 996 

Some Ugly Little Imps. Verse Pauline Frances Camp .... 786 

Spider's Jealousy, The. Picture, drawn by E. G. Lutz 908 

Spifferated Banjak, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Charles F. Lester 1020 

Spring Candles. Verse. (Illustrated by E. M. Wireman) Emily Rose Burt 654 

Spring, In. Verse Emily Rose Burt 638 

Treat. The. Verse. (Illustrated by C T.Hill) Ethel Parton 1002 

Triple Play. The. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Ralph Henry Barbour .... 963 

Troubles, Our. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Isabel Lyndall 837 

Two Brave Boys Rebecca Harding Davis . . 835 

Two Friends, The. Picture 969 

Two Gowns, The. Verse. (Illustrated by B. J. Rosenmeyer) Miriam S. Clark 608 

Unfinished Symphony, An. Verse. (Illustrated from photographs) C. H. Claudy 834 

Unwelcome Guest. An. Picture 707 

Vacation-time Posers. Verse George B. King 900 

Vain Child, The. Verse. (Illustrated) Emily Rose Burt 1010 

Vicar of Wakefield, The. (Illustrated from the painting by Margaret 

Dicksee) Fannie W. Marshall 1066 

Victory, The. Picture 607 

What Johnny Wished. Verse Deborah Ege Olds 1 124 

Where It Was Signed. Verse Mary Garton Foster 1063 

Whiny-boy. Verse Deborah Ege Olds 1124 

Who Wants a Drink ? Verse Mabel Livingston Frank . . 1001 

Wild-flower Tamer, The. Verse. (Illustrated ) Carolyn Wells 924 

Wilful Bobby's Midnight Ride. Pictures, drawn by Mark Fenderson 1027 

Will-o'-the-Wisp. Poem Cecil Cavendish 704 

Winkelman Von Winkel. Verse (Illustrated and engrossed by R. B. 

Birch) Clara Odcll Lyon 586 

Wisdom Jingles, Ole Daddy Do-funny's. Verse. (Illustrated) Ruth McEnery Stuart 695, 916 

Wish of Priscilla Penelope Powers, The. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. 

Birch) Mrs. John T. J'an Sant . . 586 



You Do Look Funny. Picture 901 

Young Pioneer, The. Picture. From the painting by Douglas Volk 588 

Young Railroaders, The. (Illustrated by F. B. Masters) F. Lovell Coombs 

Jack's Electric Signal 639 

A Runaway Train 690 

The Haunted Station 801 

In a Tight Fix and Out 896 

The Last of the Freight Thieves 997 

A Dramatic Flagging 1068 

Young Wizard of Morocco, The. (Illustrated by George Varian) Bradley Gilman 600 

733, 806, 903, 1022, 1096 


" Oh, Look at the Date on the Corner-stone ! " by C. M. Relyea, facing page 579 — " Swiftly the Little 
Princess, Creeping, Fled at the Sound of a Vagrant Bird," by R. B. Birch, facing page 675—" Between the 
Two Soldiers, Tom Proudly Marched," by Armand Both, facing page 771 — " Summer and Seventeen," from 
the painting by H. R. Butler, facing page 867 — " He Was Almost Too Late— But Not Quite," by C. M. 
Relyea, facing page 963—" From Mother to Teacher— The Trust," by Sarah K. Smith, facing page 1059. 

For Very Little Folk. (Illustrated.) 
The Journey Book. 

All Aboard ! 655 

Canada and Mexico 741 

Crossing the Atlantic 848 

England, Scotland, and Wales 944 

France 1040 

Germany and Home Again 1119 

Books and Reading. (Illustrated) Hildegarde Hawthorne . . . .652 

746,838,934, 1030,1148 

St. Nicholas League. (Illustrated) 660, 756, 852, 948, 1044, 1140 

Nature and Science. (Illustrated) 644, 748, 840, 93'6, 1032, 1132 

The Letter-box. (Illustrated) 669, 766, 862, 958, 1053, 1150 

The Riddle-box. (Illustrated) 671, 767, 863, 959, 1055, 1151 

Editorial Notes 1150 


[The entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission. ] 


Frontispiece. "'Oh, Look at the Date on the Corner-stone!' 

exclaimed Hilda,—' 1759 V" Picture. Drawn by C. M. Relyea. Page 

The League of the Signet-Ring. Serial Story Mary Constance Du Bols 579 

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 

The Wish of Priscilla Penelope Powers. Verse Mrs. John t. Van Sant 586 

Illustrated by Reginald Birch. 

Winkelman Von Winkel. Verse Clara Odell Lyon 586 

Illustrated by Reginald Birch. 

The Home-Builders : A Birdologue. Verse Arthur Guiterman 587 

Illustrated by G. A. Harker. 
The Young Pioneer. Picture. From a Painting by Douglas Volk 588 

Letter-Boxes in Foreign Lands A. R. Roy 589 

Illustrated from Photographs. 

Girls' Booms Antoinette R. Perrett 593 

Illustrated by Galen J. Perrett. 

Jingles Deborah Ege Olds 597 

"Flowers," "Canary, What is It?" 
Illustrated by Harriet Adair Newcomb. 

The May-Queen. (A Nonsense Ballad of the Gentle Spring.) Verse. .C. F. Lester 598 

Illustrated by the Author. 

The Young Wizard of Morocco. Serial Story Bradley Gilman 600 

Illustrated by George Varian. 

" The Attack." Picture 606 

" The Vic.tory." Picture 607 

The Two Gowns. Verse Miriam S. Clark 608 

Illustrated by B. J. Rosenmeyer. 

Kingsford, Quarter. Serial Story •./.., Ralph Henry Barbour. ... . . 609 

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 

"Pets." Picture. From the Painting by S. Granitsch ... 616 

The Green Paper Doll. (More "Betty" Stories.) Carolyn Wells 617 

Illustrated by Reginald Birch. 

A Jungleville Air-Ship. Pictures. Drawn by I. W. Taber 624 

The Befugee. Serial Story Captain Charles Gilson 626 

Illustrated by Arthur Becher. 

Robin of the Loving Heart. Story Emma Endlcott Marean 634 

Illustrated by Florence E. Storer. 

In Spring. Verse Emily R. Burt 638 

Jack's Electric Signal. ("The Young Railroaders" Series.) F. Lovell Coombs 639 

Illustrated by F. B. Masters. 

Nature and Science for Young Folks, illustrated — 644 

Books and Reading Hildegarde Hawthorne 652 

Spring Candles. Verse Emily Burt 654 

Leaves from the Journey Book. Drawn by De Witt Clinton Falls 655 

The St. Nicholas League. Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems, 

Drawings, and Photographs. Illustrated 660 

A Merry Waltz in Animal-Land. Picture. Drawn by Boz 668 

Grandpa and Tommy. Picture. Drawn by C. J. Budd 668 

The Letter-Box 669 

The Riddle-Box 671 

The Century Co. audits editors receive manuscripts and art material, submitted for publica- 
tion t only on the understanding" that they shall not be responsible for loss or injury thereto 
while ill their possession or in transit. Copies of manuscripts should be retained by the authors. 

Subscription price, $3,00 a year; single number, 25 cents. The half-yearly parts of ST. NICHOLAS end with the 
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made after the 5th of any month in the address of the Magazine for the following month. PUBLISHED MONTHL Y. 

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william w. ellsworth, secretary. THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, New York, N. Y. 


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MAY, 1910 

No. 7 


The L 

a g 




the Si^nei-Rine^"^ 

e-^ 5 ? J>y Alary Constance Du Bois 

Chapter I 


"What a dear old house! It looks as if it were 
full of mysteries and legends and secret stair- 
cases, and all sorts of fascinating things!" ex- 
claimed Jean Lennox, as the twentieth-century 
motor-car turned in at the gate of the eighteenth- 
century homestead. 

It was Easter Monday, and a few minutes 
hefore a round dozen of young people had 
arrived at the Tallulah station on their way to 
hold a house-party at Wyndgarth, the Arm- 
Copyright, 1910, by The Century Co 

strongs' country-seat on the banks of the Hud- 
son. Mrs. Armstrong and the girls, spinning 
along in the automobile, had left the boys in the 
carriage far behind ; and here they were already, 
stopping before the stately colonial mansion. The 
party that alighted from the motor-car consisted 
of Mrs. Armstrong, her daughter Carol in all the 
bloom of her nineteen years, and seven boarding- 
school maidens — Jean Lennox, tall, dark-haired, 
with deep blue eyes ; Evelyn Sherwood, Cecily 
Brook, Betty Randolph, Hilda Hastings, Phyllis 
Morton, and merry little Frances Browne. 

These girls belonged to a sisterhood worthy 

All rights reserved. 




of the days of chivalry. A year ago Jean, then a 
freshman at Hazelhurst Hall, had banded her 
classmates together into the Order of the Silver 
Sword. This society had a distinctly military 
flavoring. The members called themselves battle 
maids, and their badges were miniature golden 
shields crossed by silver swords. Caritas ct Veri- 
tas was the motto on the badges, and these girl 
knights had armed themselves with two mystic 
weapons — Caritas, the silver sword of love and 
kind-heartedness, and Veritas, the golden shield 
of truth, honor, and loyalty. Jean herself had 
been elected queen of the order. Cecily as secre- 
tary and Betty as treasurer had received the titles 
of princesses of the Scroll and of the Treasure. 
Carol, then president of the seniors, having 
adopted fourteen-year-old Jean as a younger sis- 
ter, had become her Majesty's chief councilor, 
the "alruna" or prophetess of the order. This 
Easter-tide Carol and Jean had invited those 
members of the society whose homes were far 
away to spend the vacation with them in New 
York. To-day Carol and her guests, and Jean 
and hers, had joined forces, and the merry-mak- 
ing at Wyndgarth was to crown the holidays. 

"Oh, look at the date on the corner-stone!" ex- 
claimed Hilda, — "1759 !" 

"Does n't it seem as if George Washington 
ought to be on the porch making a bow to us?" 
said Carol. "He did spend a night here once." 

As she spoke, the door opened ; they heard a 
rush like an avalanche — a huge, dark body hurled 
itself through the doorway, and a monstrous 
creature came bounding forth — the largest dog 
they had ever seen ! Yet it was not for the 
strangers, but for Carol, that he sprang. She 
braced herself against a pillar not a second too 
soon. He bounded upon her, but she met the 
onslaught by throwing her arms around his neck 
and laughing. 

"Hamlet, you dear old fellow ! Was he so 
glad to see his family he wanted to knock them 
down? How d' ye do, Aggie?" She waved a 
greeting to the servant who had opened the door. 
"His name 's Hamlet because he 's a Great 
Dane," she explained, as the other girls joined in 
fondling her turbulent welcomer. "And he has 
a tendency to insanity, like the Prince of Den- 
mark. He thinks he 's a little fuzzy white poodle, 
just the right size to cuddle down in your lap, 
which is slightly inconvenient." 

"Now, girls," said Mrs. Armstrong, "come and 
see the kind of homes people used to have." She 
ushered them into the large, square hall, with its 
blazing wood fire, and then Carol led the way 
through parlor, library, and dining-room. On all 
sides they saw high-paneled wainscoting, massive 

old mahogany furniture, and portraits of impos- 
ing ladies with powdered coiffures, and gentle- 
men with lace ruffles and gay coats. They peeped 
into the old kitchen, not the one in present use, 
and saw a huge open fireplace with a crane, and 
with chimney-corners so capacious that two 
cronies might have drawn up their chairs inside 
and chatted across the blaze. 

Finally Carol took her guests up the wide stair- 
case to the floor above. Here the girls found, in 
the rooms which they were to occupy, high four- 
posters, each bed being provided with a small 

Hats and coats laid aside, they turned to go 
down-stairs. At the top of the flight they en- 
countered the rest of the house-party — two out of 
Carol's trio of brothers, and their four boy 
guests. In the lead was Alan Armstrong, a hand- 
some fellow of seventeen. After him came his 
friends Dick Bradley and Ned Conyngham ; then 
Cecily's cousin Jack Hamilton, and Douglas Gor- 
don. Jack was sturdy of frame and jolly of 
countenance. Douglas was a fair-haired Scotch 
lad, his face clean-cut and strong, and his gray 
eyes as honest as they were clear and keen. Bring- 
ing up the rear with Hamlet was the youngest 
Armstrong, fourteen-year-old Eric, tawny-haired 
and merry-eyed. 

"This is an awfully jolly place!" said Douglas. 

"Grandfather left it to us, only a year ago. 
We mean to make it our summer home," answered 

There was no time for further exploration just 
then, for luncheon was announced, and a long 
automobile ride was planned for the afternoon. 

"Jean, do you know what I keep thinking about 
all the time this vacation?" asked Douglas, after 
luncheon, when the young folks were gathered 
on the porch. "It 's the difference between last 
Easter and this. Last year there I was, all alone 
in the world, trying to find work, and nobody to 
care a cent what happened to me ! And now look 
at the change ! I tell you I can't believe I 'm the 
same fellow, sometimes!" 

"And would n't I have been surprised," said 
Jean, "if anybody had told me last Easter I was 
going to have a great big brother like you!" 

It was indeed hard, at times, for Douglas Gor- 
don to realize that he was the very boy who, the 
year before, had been left to fight his way in the 
world, unfriended and alone. His mother he 
could scarcely remember. His father, a physi- 
cian, had been forced through ill health to give 
up his city practice and go with his little son to 
live in the Adirondacks. More than a year ago 
he had been taken down with pneumonia and had 
died on Christmas Day. The boy, left destitute, 




had faced his sorrow manfully, and had set forth 
resolutely to seek his fortune. Looking for work, 
he had come to Halcyon Lake. Soon afterward 
a number of Hazelhurst girls had arrived at Hal- 
cyon also, to spend the summer at a camp belong- 
ing to Cecily's mother. Among them was Jean 
Lennox, leader of "the battle maids." Jean and 
Douglas had met, her girlish sympathy had soon 
won from the lad his whole story, and the young 
queen had drawn her silver sword on his behalf. 
Through her pleading he had obtained the place of 
boatman at the Brooks' camp, and between the boy 
and girl a fast friendship had sprung up. Before 
the vacation was over Douglas had had a chance 
to prove his mettle, and had shown himself to be 
of such brave, good stuff that when Mr. Lennox 
had come to see his little daughter he had made 
up his mind that here was a lad of whom any 
father might well be proud. And when it was 
found that, years ago in Scotland, Douglas's 
grandfather and Jean's had been close friends, it 
had seemed to Mr. Lennox that the boy had a 
strong claim upon him. So he had taken Douglas 
into his own home, determined to give him an 
education which should fit him for whatever work 
he might choose in life. The boy had thrown 
himself with a will into his work at the boarding- 
school to which he was sent. At least he could 
show that the trust in him had not been mis- 
placed. Alan and Eric Armstrong were among 
his schoolmates. 

"Come down to the stable while we 're waiting 
for the autos, Gordon, and see my Airedale," 
begged Eric, coming up to Douglas and Jean. 

"You must see Hiawatha, too," said Carol. She 
went ahead of them into the stable, and when 
Eric's shaggy terrier had been pronounced "a 
crackajack" by Douglas, they followed and 
found her in a stall, feeding sugar to a beautiful, 
spirited bay. "This is Hiawatha," said she, "and 
I 'm very proud of him. Come, Pet — back ! back !" 

"Here, let me help you," began Douglas. But 
no hands but hers were needed as she backed 
Hiawatha out of his stall to greet the company. 

That afternoon the motor-cars carried the 
young folks over fifty miles of country, and it 
was eight o'clock by the time a very hungry, very 
jolly company assembled once more around the 
dining-table. Carol had planned to treat the village 
children to an Easter-egg hunt the next day, and 
when dinner was over she slipped away to collect 
her eggs and her dyes. Mrs. Armstrong called 
Alan to help her find a box of old curios. Eric 
went off to see his puppy safely locked up for 
the night, and the rest of the party drew close 
to the dining-room fireside, for a cold, March-like 
gale was rising. 

"Listen! What is that queer sound?" Cecily 
raised a hushing hand. The others listened and 
heard a sound as of music, sweet, plaintive, vi- 
brant, coming from somewhere aloft in the great 
brick chimney. "How weird ! What is it ? What 
makes it?" the girls exclaimed. 

"Must be the wind," said Dick Bradley. "I 
wonder what makes it sound like that, though!" 

"It 's a banshee," said Jean. "There 's a ghost 
up in the chimney !" 

They listened to the mournful strains, wonder- 
ing and conjecturing, till Carol came back with 
her bowl of eggs. 

"Carol," said Ned Conyngham, "there 's the 
ghost of a prima donna up in the chimney." 

"Oh, you hear Grandmother Veronica's voice, 
do you?" returned Carol. "My great-great-great- 
grandmother left her voice behind her, they say. 
I thought we 'd hear it to-night, there 's such a 
high wind." 

"What is it really?" asked Douglas. 

"It 's only an Aeolian harp," answered Carol. 

"They were always putting harps in chimneys 
in these old houses," said Alan, coming in with 
his mother. "It 's near the top, but you can hear 
it down here when the wind blows hard." 

"And the tradition is that it 's Grandmother 
Veronica's voice," said Carol. "We have a very 
romantic story about her. Little Mother, you tell 
it while we dye the eggs. - Come and sit in the 
old Tory's arm-chair, deary, and look colonial." 
Her mother was soon ensconced in a carved, high- 
backed chair by the fireside, and began the story. 

Chapter II 


"This house was built by Gilbert Chauncey be- 
fore the Revolution. He was an old man by the 
time the war broke out, and he had living with 
him his two orphan grandchildren, Hugh and 
Veronica Chauncey. Old Gilbert was a stanch 
Tory, and when his grandson joined the Conti- 
nental army he disinherited him and made his 
granddaughter his heir. But Veronica's sym- 
pathies were secretly all on the American side, 
too ; and one day, as she was looking for wild, 
flowers in the woods near the house, whom should 
she come upon but a young Continental soldier ! 
She knew the neighborhood was full of redcoats, 
and she warned him of his danger, and told him 
that she was a Continental at heart even though 
she zvas a Tory's granddaughter. When the 
young soldier found he could trust her, he told 
her his story. He was carrying important de- 
spatches, and as he was riding along he had been 
shot at and his horse so badly wounded that a 




few minutes later it had fallen dead. He knew 
that the enemy must be on his track, and he said 
that unless he could get another horse at once it 
was all up with him and his mission. 

"Veronica gladly offered him her own, but said 
he must wait till it was brought home from the 
blacksmith. She told him that while he was wait- 
ing she would hide him where the enemy would 
never dream of finding him — in the house of her 
Tory grandfather, for there was a secret room 

"Is there really a secret room?" asked Jean. 

"So they say," replied Mrs. Armstrong. 

"I don't believe it 's here now," said Eric, who 
had joined them, and who was stretched on the 
hearth-rug, with Hamlet for a pillow. "I 've 
looked all over the house." 

"Oh, but it might be here still," said Jean, un- 
willing to relinquish the romantic thought. "Mrs. 
Armstrong, may n't we hunt for it to-morrow, 
just in case we could find it?" 

"Certainly, and I hope you '11 be successful." 

"She won't," declared Eric. 

"Maybe she '11 be smarter than you," said Alan. 

"Well," Mrs. Armstrong resumed, "the soldier 
decided to trust himself to Veronica; and as her 
grandfather was out, she was able to lead him 
safely into the house without being noticed, and 
hide him in the secret room. She had hardly 
done so when in came her grandfather, and with 
him two redcoat officers on their way to join their 
regiment. It was late, and old Gilbert Chauncey 
had invited them to spend the night, and poor 
little Veronica did n't see how in the world she 
was to get her soldier away safely. Her grand- 
father gave his guests a regular banquet to prove 
his loyalty ; and, to make matters worse, the only 
person she could trust to help her was Hannibal, 
an old slave, who was busy waiting on the table. 
But all the time the feast was going on, her little 
ladyship was plotting and planning. When at 
last the officers had left the table, she managed 
to have a word with Hannibal, and she told him 
when he heard her singing in the parlor to go and 
let the soldier out of his hiding-place and send 
him away on her horse. Then she went to her 
harpsichord and began singing Tory songs. Of 
course in a minute she had the officers beside her, 
listening entranced, and her grandfather too, for 
she had an exceedingly beautiful voice. And soon 
the gallant redcoats joined in the choruses and 
sang at the top of their voices ! And they sang 
so merrily that nobody heard when Hannibal let 
the young soldier out ; and nobody heard the 
clatter of hoofs when he galloped away. A few 
weeks later Veronica's horse was mysteriously 
returned to her, so of course she knew the sol- 

dier had reached his destination safely. Then, 
first her grandfather died, and then her brother 
was killed in the war, so poor Veronica was left 
all alone. Two years went by, and one day an 
officer in Continental uniform came riding up to 
the door. It was Major Alan Armstrong, and he 
was the very same soldier whom she had hidden 
in the secret room. He had come at last to thank 
her properly ; and he thanked her very properly 
indeed, for he asked her to be his wife ! And so 
Veronica Chauncey became Veronica Armstrong, 
and this house has come down in the Armstrong 
family. There is a tradition that Grandmother 
Veronica used to sing to Major Alan and their 
children every evening, and that she left her 
voice here in the chimney as a legacy to her de- 

"What a splendid story !" the girls exclaimed. 

"You must look at this box of curios now," 
said Mrs. Armstrong, when the egg-dyeing was 
over. "One of Veronica's sons was a sea-cap- 
tain, and he brought these from the East. There 
are various stories about him ; how he fought in 
the War of 1812 and had all sorts of adventures." 

When the captain's collection of curiosities, 
gathered from many lands, had been examined, 
it was time to say good night. The next morn- 
ing was devoted to an excursion by steam-launch 
to West Point to see the Military Academy. 
Early in the afternoon came the work of hiding 
the Easter eggs in different parts of the grounds, 
and this was scarcely finished before the troop of 
village children arrived. Carol had to take 
charge of her little guests, and so Jean was asked 
to play hostess to the house-party. 

"Suppose you take them on a hunt for the se- 
cret room," said Carol. "Eric will show you 
around. Take them down cellar, Eric; I want 
them to see that odd step in the stairs,' with the 
brass nails in it." 

Before Jean could collect her forces, Evelyn, 
Hilda, and Phyllis had gone off with Alan, Dick, 
and Ned for a stroll. But Cecily, Betty, and 
Frances were as eager as Jean to investigate ; 
and Douglas and Jack were pressed into the ser- 
vice. Eric conducted the explorers to the cellar. 

"This is the step," said he, pointing out the 
lowest one of the cellar stairs. The top of it was 
fastened down with a row of large brass nails, 
and hinges at the back showed that it must have 
been used as a box. 

"Have n't you ever opened it?" asked Jean. 

"No ; I 've never been here much myself, and I 
never bothered." 

"Open it now," said Frances. 

"All right. Wait till I get some tools." Eric 
ran off, and returned with hammer and chisel. 




"Maybe the old Tory chap kept his money here," XX-XXV 15 21-XIII 5 5 XX— XIX III 1 XII 5- 

he suggested, as he set to work. 


™. , , , ,. , , -, , . . XVIII XX 2S-VI s 5 XX— VI XVIII 15 XIII— XX 

Ihe girls watched him eagerly while he pried vm 

open the lid. 

"Hello ! There is something here !' 


XX VIII 5-XXIII 15 15 IV— 1 XIV IV-VI 9 

gold nor silver appeared, but Eric drew out a XIV 1V-XX VIII 5-XX XVIII 5 1 XIX 21 XVIII 5 



folded piece of paper, yellow with age, the sole 
contents of the box. 

"That must be old Chauncey's will!" said Jack. 

Eric unfolded the paper, and they saw, written 
in pale, faded ink, a series of figures, Roman and 

"What under the sun can it be?" exclaimed 
Jean, as they read : 


"What can all those numbers mean?" asked 

"It looks like a cipher !" said Douglas. 

"That 's so!" Jack agreed. "See here. There 
was a lot doing around this place in the Revolu- 
tion, was n't there ? You don't suppose this is a 
cipher despatch?" 

"I '11 wager it is!" cried Eric. 

"It is! It is !" declared Jean, in great excite- 
ment. "It 's a Revolutionary despatch !" 

"Let 's study it out !" said Cecily. They hur- 
ried up-stairs and settled themselves around the 
library table with pencils and paper. 




"How do you begin, anyway ? Give us a 
starter, Scotchy," said Jack. 

"If it 's a cipher, every number must stand for 
a letter," said Douglas. "I '11 make three or four 
copies, so we can all get at it. Now then," he 
said, when he had finished, "count up and see 
what number is repeated most." 

"Double X and 5 both come in twenty-three 
times," Cecily announced, after a long silence. 

"Then one of them stands for E," said Douglas; 
"E is the commonest letter in English. Now if 
we find three numbers, and 5 or double X the last 
of them, coming in several times in the same order, 
we '11 know they must spell 'the.' Then we '11 
have three letters, and that '11 help us a lot." 

"Double X, V three I's, and figure 5 come in 
five times," said Jean. 

"And those dashes come in fore and aft," said 
Jack. "They must mark the division between 

"Here 's the figure 1 all by itself," said Frances. 
"It must stand for a word of one letter, 'a' or 'I.' " 

"Here!" cried Douglas at last. "I 've got it! 
The whole key ! They just numbered the letters 
according to the way they stand in the alphabet. 
A is 1, and B is 2, and so on. And they used 
the Roman numbers for the consonants, and our 
ordinary ones for the vowels." 

"Oh, pshaw ! Could n't they be any foxier than 
that!" said Eric, who had been scowling hope- 
lessly a minute before. 

"It can't be an army despatch," said Jack. 
"They 'd have used a harder cipher. Must be 
the major's bread-and-butter letter to Veronica." 

"How do you know but it 's buried treasure?" 
suggested Douglas. "Did n't Captain Kidd ever 
come up the Hudson?" 

"Let 's hurry up and translate it, anyway," said 
Cecily. "I '11 write out the alphabet and number 
the letters, so we won't have to count up each 

With the aid of Cecily's numbered alphabet 
they deciphered the mysterious document, and the 
excitement increased with every word made 
plain. The cipher, when wholly interpreted, they 
found to be in verse and to run thus : 

Take flight. Turn to the right. 
Then go forth, east by north, 
Till a steep ascent you meet. 
Scale the height. Thirty feet 
From the broken arrow measure. 
Fell the wood and find the treasure. 

"It is buried treasure !" cried Jean. "/ know 
what it means ! The sea-captain who brought all 
those curios probably fought with pirates and 
came home with their hoards of treasure ! It 's 
as plain as day ! I 'm certain we '11 find heaps of 

gold and diamonds if we hunt, and we '11 all be 
rolling in wealth !" 

"You 've solved the problem !" declared Cecily. 
"Of course it was the captain, and he buried the 
treasure, so it would be safe while he was at sea !" 

"And he must have buried it in a hollow tree," 
said Frances. "We '11 have to find it and chop it 
down !" 

"No," said Jean. "There would n't be room 
enough in a tree. It 's buried down under the 

"Jean, you beat Sherlock Holmes," said Doug- 
las. "But don't you forget, when we get rich, 
that / gave you the key to the cipher!" 

"Things are sure coming our way," said Eric. 
"Let 's get to work ! But I bet it 's been dug up 
long ago," he added, his face falling. 

"Oh, we '11 find something. Don't you worry," 
Douglas assured him. "Come on, let 's excavate 
these diggings !" 

" 'Take flight.' I 'm sure that just means go a 
long distance before you turn to the right," said 
Cecily. "But where do we take flight from?" 

"From the cellar, I think," said Eric; and he 
studied his paper. " 'Then go forth, cast by 
north, till a steep ascent you meet.' That might 
mean the Van Sicklens' hill. It 's about north- 
east of us, and it 's woody. We '11 have to get an 
ax and a spade." 

"Let 's see if we can find the arrow before we 
lug along an ax and a spade," Jack advised. 

"I 'm going to tell Carol and make her come, 
too," began Jean. 

"I '11 go after her." And off went Douglas, 
paper in hand. He came back alone. "Carol can't 
leave the kids till they 've had their ice-cream, 
but she wants us to go on and hunt. She thinks 
it 's worth investigating. Come along ; let 's 

From the cellar they "took flight" as far as the 
road. There, turning to the right, they found 
themselves looking toward the Van Sicklens' hill. 

"I don't suppose there 's a chance the arrow 
could be there still," said Cecily, as they walked 
up the road. 

"I suppose you realize, too," said Jack, "that 
the first week of our search will have to be de- 
voted to finding what part of the steep ascent to 
climb up." 

"We '11 probably have to go over every square 
foot of it," said Jean, "but who cares?" 

Not even the prospect of scouring the entire 
hillside could daunt the girls, and as for Douglas, 
his zeal seemed to increase with every step. The 
steep ascent reached, they exploited the foot-path, 
but though they scaled the height to the very top, 
not even an arrow-head appeared. 




"Look here," said Douglas. "Maybe 'take 
flight' means take a flight of steps! Let 's go 
back to the cellar and start over again." 

The other guests had returned from their walk 
by the time the treasure-seekers reached the 
house, and were ready to join the search as soon 
as they were shown the mysterious rhyme. With 
this reinforcement, the expedition set forth again 
from the head of the cellar stairs. 

"Right face !" Douglas commanded. With one 
accord they turned, and found themselves facing 
the kitchen. 

"I believe it 's buried somewhere in the house!" 
cried Jean. "I believe it 's hidden in the secret 
room !" 

"Sherlock 's hit it again !" said Douglas. " 'Fell 
the wood' means, Chop down a wall. Of course 
Mrs. Armstrong won't mind a little thing like 

To "go forth, east by north," they now discov- 
ered, meant to pass through the kitchen and din- 
ing-room into the main hall. 

"Voila the steep ascent!" said Jack, waving his 
hand toward the staircase. 

"How about the arrow?" asked Cecily. "There 
are n't any arrows stuck up around here, are 
there, Eric?" 

"No," replied Eric, "but we 've picked up 
arrow-heads on the place." 

"Carol says there are stacks of old things up 
in the attic," said Betty. "We might find an 
arrow hidden away." 

"Or the broken arrow might be some mysteri- 
ous symbol," said Jean. "Anyhow, let 's scale 
the height and keep on to the attic." 

Ascending the first flight, they pursued their 
quest up the narrow stairs leading to the garret. 

An ideal attic it was, a perfect treasure-house 
in itself, with its great, dark oaken chests and 
ancestral relics. 

"You don't want to poke through all that old 
junk, do you?" Eric inquired lazily. 

Jean turned to examine one of the chimneys, 
in the hope that in some cranny she might find a 
piece of the broken weapon. Her eyes wandered 
up to the rafters, then down to the heavy planks 
forming the floor. 

"There 's the arrow !" she called, pointing 
to a spot at her feet. Sure enough, there, painted 
on the rough floor, was a tiny red arrow, the shaft 
divided in two. 

"Hello!" cried Eric. "Why, I never saw that 
before !" 

Great was the exultation of the company until 
there came the question of measuring off the thirty 

feet from the arrow. Pacing off the length of the 
attic, the boys found it only twenty-seven feet. 

"Thirty feet takes you out of the window," said 

"How about thirty feet straight down?" said 
Douglas. "Let 's see : drop a plumb-line down 
through the arrow thirty feet— that ought to land 
us in the dining-room alongside the fireplace." 

"Land us in the china-closet!" said Eric. 

"We 've got it now! I know we have!" de- 
clared Jean. "There must be a secret cubbyhole 
in the china-closet !" 

"Come on, then," said Jack. They hastened 
down-stairs, to be met by Carol. 

"Have n't you found it yet?" she asked. "You 
ought to be staggering under bags of gold by this 

They told her of the painted arrow, and she 
hurried with them to the dining-room. The chim- 
ney, in which they had heard Veronica's voice, 
projected far out from the wall. The angle to 
the left was occupied by a three-cornered chim- 
ney-cupboard. On the right a mahogany china- 
closet had been built, and made to extend from 
the fireplace to the side of the room. 

Carol threw open the doors, and the explorers 
found that in the center the lowest shelf was 
placed about four feet from the floor. Beneath 
this could be seen the paneled wainscoting of the 

"Secret rooms always have sliding panels," said 
Jean. "See whether any of these slide !" 

Douglas and Eric set to work testing the wain- 
scoting by rapping and pressure. "This panel 
won't budge any more than the chimney," began 

"Same here!" said Douglas. "No! Look here! 
Here 's one that does n't seem to fit very tight." 
At the bottom of this panel there was an all but 
imperceptible crack. 

"Let 's see if we can pry it out," said Douglas, 
and he forced the blade of his knife into the 
crack. Suspense had now reached its height, and 
the girls watched him breathlessly. But the panel 
remained fixed. Finding the prying method of 
no use, Douglas passed his knife-blade back and 
forth in the crack, until it came in contact with 
something hard. He pressed it against the ob- 
stacle, and was rewarded by finding that it yielded. 

"Hello ! I believe I 've slipped a bolt !" he ex- 
claimed. "Now we '11 see if the panel will move." 
A moment more, and the youthful cracksman had 
it out, revealing a narrow entrance into a dark 
inner closet. How they all cheered ! The secret 
room was found ! 

(To be continued.) 

The V/isb °^ P^iscilta Penelope poa3eps 

Priscilla Penelope Powers one day 

Took tea at a neighbor s just over the way. 

Two pieces of pie they urged her to take. 

And seven whole slices of chocolate cake I 
"Oh, dear,'' sighed Priscilla Penelope Powers, 
" I wish I was your little girl stead of ours ! " 

Airs. John T. Van Sant. 


VVi nKeljnan Von vvfinkel is -the -wises* man alive, 
He Knows ihat one and one make two, and -(wo and three maKe -five; 
He Knows that waler runs down hill, "(hat ihe Sun Sets in {he west > 
And -that for winter weaiher wear, one's winter clothes are best ; 
In tact, he does not minctfe much with common folR- around, 

Because his learning is so dreat — his wisdom so profound . 

Clara Ode 11 Lyon. 

CT7nf^^^i y^fe 


A Birdologue, 

77z<? Ttwe fj May. 77t<? Scene is any Orchard 
The Characters are Lord and Lady Baltimore 
the Orioles. 

Lord Baltimore: So here we are, my sweet, and 

We came ; for, while 't is true we had 
A charming winter holiday 
In Southern climes, when gentle May 
Has come, our cooler Northern sky 
I much prefer. 

Lady Baltimore : And so do I ! 
The very heart within me quakes 
To think about those dreadful snakes 
Among the swamps ! I can't forget 
That mottled wretch with eyes of jet 
Who swung his ugly head above 
Our nest — 

Lord B.: There! calm yourself, my love; 
He is n't here, and if he were 
I 'd teach him manners !— Well, bestir ! 
'T is May, 't is May ! my dearest one ; 
The sun is bright, our journey 's done; 
The grass is green ; the orchard trees, 
In bloom, are all alive with bees; 
The gipsy Wind shall help us plan 
A frolic flight — 

Lady B. : How like a man ! 

To think of play and idle flight 
Before we 'd even found a site 
To build our proper, hanging nest ! 

Lord B. : Ah, well, I thought you needed rest ; 
But since you 're anxious, let 's prepare : 
Now, that young Maple .over there- 

Lady B. : Oh, no, indeed ! 
It 's much too near 
The house. 

Lord B. : That leafy Birch— 

My dear ! 

Lady B. : 

It 's far too low. 

Lord B. : 

Lady B. : Too bare. 

Lord B. : 

Lady B. : I 've said before 
That oaks have branches far too 

rough ; 
Besides, they never sway enough 
To rock the babies. 

Lord B. : How about 

That spreading Elm? It 's just 

The orchard wall; that dizzy height 
No Cat may climb; those branches 

No Boy dare trust ; besides, you see, 
My office in the Cherry-tree 
Is close at hand. 

Lady B.: You don't suppose 

Those thievish Jays or hungry Crows — 

Lord B. : I 'd like to see them go so far 
As just to peep ! 

Lady B. : How brave you are ! 

Lord B.: Well, then it \s settled? 

Lady B. : 

Your judgment, dear. 

Yes, I trust 

The Sycamore? 

Lord B. : My love, we must 

Be sure to find the very best 

Of grass and moss to build our nest, 

With threads from Dobbin's tail and mane 

To weave it close against the rain ; 

With thread as soft as spiders spin, 

And wool to line it warm within ; 

With raveled bits of silken clues, 

With tangled yarn of many hues ; 

And, last, to make it doubly fair, 

Some strands of Edith's golden hair. 


The property of the Metropolitan Museum of Art 

The gift of Mr. George A. Hearn 






The year 1910 brings the three hundred and fif- 
tieth anniversary of the letter-box. For the first 
letter-box was established in Paris in 1560. It 
is true that a kind of letter-box was in use in 
Italy before that time ; it was not used, however, 
by the postal service, but as a place for denuncia- 
tions directed to the police. 

The first letter-box in Germany was established 
in 1766, in Berlin. At first the boxes were sim- 
ple ; both for depositing letters and for removing 
them the cover was lifted. During the last cen- 
tury a great many different styles of boxes have 
been introduced, but the so-called Swedish sys- 
tem is now in universal use. 

In Germany the letter-boxes are highly orna- 
mental, and in many cases made especially to be 
in harmony with the architecture of the building 
to which they are fastened. They are painted 
blue, and show the coat of arms of the empire 
and that of the postal department, a post-horn 
with tassels. The mail is removed by fastening 
a bag to the bottom of the box; the bag is slipped 
in and opens and closes automatically. The post- 
man does not handle or even see the letters, and 
cannot get at them. 

In London large letter-boxes are placed on the 
sidewalk, at nearly every street corner. They 
have different compartments for city and country 
mail, and this, as well as the height of the aper- 

tures, makes them rather inconvenient for any but 
grown people. While they are painted a brilliant 
red and therefore very conspicuous, they are by 
no means an embellishment to the city. The let- 

EV j** %«*«■ .* ff "mi" turn 




1 1 K ' 







ters are taken out by opening a large door and 
literally shoveling the mail-matter into a bag. 

The letter-box in the general post-office in 
England is a magnificent construction. The sign- 
board is made of brass, on which the directions 

are engraved in ink. Large slits provide for the 
country and colonial mails, and there is also a 
different compartment for newspapers and par- 

The modern French letter-box has the shape 
of a pillar, profusely ornamented with the con- 
ventional lily. The whole box or stand is fash- 
ioned after a plant, and the top resembles a bud. 
The body is surrounded by floral wreaths or fes- 
toons, and the base is formed by large leaves. 
The boxes are placed against buildings and have 
a very pretty effect. 

In Brussels the government keeps pace with the 
needs of the people, and has attached postal boxes 
to the rear ends of cars in the city. This aids 
and hastens the delivery of letters and telegrams, 
as most of these cars pass the post-offices, where 



the boxes are emptied. This street-car letter-box, 
in fact, practically takes the place of the "pneu- 
matic tube" postal system, for which London and 
Berlin have become famous. 

The Russian post-box is an old-fashioned, awk- 
ward-looking box. It looks something like a 
peasant hut The roof is lifted up, and letters 




taken out from the top. The postman handles 
the letters as freely as the sorters themselves; it 
really does not matter much, for the govern- 
mental power in Russia is so strict that it is be- 
lieved the post-office officials frequently open 
letters suspected of being connected with plots 
against the State, and read them. 


The Italian post-boxes are prettily constructed 
and grouped together in threes and fours. One 
box is used for the city, another for the country, 
and by the side is a big automatic machine for 
stamps. A "penny in the slot" supplies the vari- 
ous kinds of stamps required. 

The Amsterdam letter-pillar is of very artistic 
construction, which is both pleasing to the eye 
and practical. The royal arms are conspicuously 
and prettily embossed on the face of the box, and 
below them are two rosettes of conventional style. 
There are two letter-slits, one for the country 
and one for the city. The top is crowned with 
ornamental flowers. Right above the pillar is a 
board on which the times of delivery and collec- 
tion are clearly written. 

The Rumanian letter-boxes are all numbered in 
large letters so as to help the public to keep track 
of where they post their mail, and also the postman 
in his collection. It is a simple square box which 


is placed generally on the walls of large buildings 
in the main streets. 

Throughout the Orient, where the national in- 
fluences are many and various, each country has 
its own post-office. For instance, the British have 
their own, and the French and the Germans theirs. 
The stamps used by each of these post-offices are, 





of course, their own, there not being a universal 
system for all countries. 

Right on the city gate in Tangier we meet, in 

this town of an old civilization, the convenience 
of most modern time — a letter-box. Before the 
natives were used to them they were considered 
as wonderful machines into which a missive once 
being put was mysteriously conveyed to its des- 
tination, and they were generally feared. To-day 
the smallest boy uses them. The style of course 
varies with the power that puts it up. 

Here we can notice with what expression of 
wonderment the native posts a letter. He is only 
certain the letter will go, but how, he does not 

The German post-box is painted blue, and has 
only German directions written on it. The direc- 
tions giving time of delivery and collection are 
written in many languages. 

The final photograph shows a letter-box on a 
Moorish gateway in Tangier, Morocco. And here 
this convenience of modern days looks strange in 
its surroundings of Arabic fresco and characters. 
No attempt has been made to harmonize with the 
Moorish architecture. The letters are collected 
from an opening on the other side of the wall. 




Early in her teens, a girl feels the impulse to add some yellow, and some pale French blue. But 
cheer and beauty to her surroundings, to make her the rose-color seems to have blended all these into 
room the interpreter of her higher life, and to its own subtle self. 

fashion joy or contentment out of the things that 
serve her daily needs. There is an art and a high 
art in giving a soul to things and in realizing the 
beauty that is fitting to the place that belongs to 
us. Sometimes a girl thinks that riches bring 
beauty to a home. That is not true. Knowledge 
and appreciation, good taste and imagination, and 
a willing spirit, these are the helpers. Do not 
mistake luxury, as young people often do, for 
beauty. Learn to look deeper into the heart of 
things. I often think that the great thing that I 
learned at college, the best lesson of all my 
studies, of languages and history, of mathematics, 
of chemistry and astronomy, of music, was just 
this : that the universe is a universe of laws. 
The sweetest melody, as well as the orbits of the 
planets, and the conjugations of the verbs, is gov- 
erned by laws. 

And with the beauty of our own four walls 
there are laws of proportion, of composition, 
of color, of design. As you feel and under- 
stand these laws, you will gain a power far 
greater than riches to transform your surround- 
ings. You will have ever at your beck and call 
the handmaidens who will help you to express 
the growing world of your imagination in the 
familiar scenes of your daily life. 

There can be beauty in the color of a tinted wall 
as well as in the richness of brocade, but there 
cannot be beauty in an inexpensive roll of wall-pa- 
per that seeks to imitate brocade. In the ready 
distinction between sincerity and sham, between 
naturalness and pretense, lies one of the very 
foundations of srood taste. 


A rug may be a modern floor-covering from a 
Western loom, but it cannot hide the effect of 
ages nor forget its Eastern influence. The rug in 
the attic sitting-room (see page 594) is a design 
from Feraghan, where the scarlet poppies and 
red anemones, the yellow snapdragons and the 
white henna, the carnation, iris, tulip, and nar- 
cissus grow upon the hillsides among the pas- 
turage of the flocks. The rug has patterned this 
wealth of flowers in its close all-over design 
and in its richness and harmony of color. The 
background is a deep blue. There is some white, 
Vol. XXXVII. — 75. 593 

The walls of the sitting-room are tinted a dull 
buff, a kind of old yellow. What wall would dare 
to be spotted with flowers or pattern in the face 
of a Persian rug with its wonderful feeling for 
color and marvelous skill in design ! Plain sur- 
faces through their very contrast give value to 
ornament. You sometimes have to cultivate an 
acquaintance with Spartan simplicity, to make 
artistic sacrifices, for the sake of artistic suc- 
cesses. Beauty lies, not in lavishness nor in bare- 
ness, but in a thoughtful moderation. 

The first form of long seat in this country was 
the high-backed fireside "settle." Since then it 
has assumed various forms and has been called 
by various names, such as settee, couch, double 
chair, and sofa. Still its popularity remains, and 
it is growing in usefulness and variety as our 
homes grow in taste and charm. A cozy seat is 
always an attractive piece of furniture for a 
girl's room. It invites confidences as well as 
sociability. The settee in the attic room has a 
certain girlish lightness in its posts and in the 
space-divisions of its arms and back. It is won- 
derful how a piece of furniture can express the 
ages and the moods of people. In the girl's small 
boudoir (see page 595) there is a white painted 
bench with a paneled back. In the girl's studio (see 
page 594) there is an upholstered corner seat that 
helps to give the room, with its heavy oak easel 
and its modeling-bench, a suggestion of feminine 
comfort. Who can resist the invitation of the 
tea-nook ? Who does not love its party spirit and 
gaiety in the gloaming of a winter afternoon? 
The tea-pot is such a warm busybody. It makes 
the world seem full of happy nothings. It has 
such a good-natured rotundity of form, it almost 
looks rollicking by the side of the precise little 
cream-pitcher. The tea-table in the studio has 
two lower shelves, one for the extra cups and 
one for the tray. 


In this studio, the high rounded window with its 
small panes of glass and its paneled back of oak 
is the architectural feature, as the window of a 
studio should be. The grayish-green walls and 
the weathered green woodwork give the room its 
color restfulness. A studio naturally lends itself 
to decoration. The wall-shelf has a collection of 






^aw^nr- s 













simple pottery, shapes that a girl can mold her- 
self. When it comes to pictures, I think it a 
mistake for a student to follow an artist's exam- 
ple in surrounding herself with her own work. 
There are many things a master may do with im- 
punity and success that a student does not profit 
by. It looks unambitious, at least, for a girl to 
surround herself with her own sketches, when 
the world is full of masterpieces that can be daily 
an inspiration to her. Every student has her own 
favorites. It is by decorating her walls with the 
pictures she loves that a girl can best give her 
room the individual touch that a room should 

In the studio are prints of "The Butterfly" and 
"A Quiet Hour," by J. W. Alexander, portraits 
effective and graceful, full of a modern poetry. 
The girl putting on the hat is by Frank W. Ben- 
son. The picture on the side wall is "The First 
Music Lesson," by Francis Day. 


In the alcove nook, over the fireplace, is "The 
Castle of the Maidens," by Edwin Abbey, which 
forms part of the frieze decoration "The Quest of 
the Holy Grail" in the Boston Public Library. 
Its row of beautiful maidens makes it peculiarly 
appropriate for a girl's room, while the long, low 
composition makes it an excellent space-division 
over the mantel-shelf. 

The problem of pictures in a room is not only 
a problem of pictures. It is a problem of space- 
filling. Of course this problem of space-filling 
concerns doors and windows, fireplaces and light- 
ing-fixtures, and wall-paneling even more than it 
does pictures. We hang a picture in a certain 
position without being able to explain why we 
feel satisfied when we hang it so. In the studio, 
along the window wall, for instance, we hung 
four portrait studies of equal size and felt con- 
tent. But why? I think it was because they 
helped to emphasize the horizontal line of the 
shelf, an emphasis that was needed because of 
the very interest aroused by the window with its 
long vertical lines and rounded top. On the side 
wall, on the other hand, two pictures of equal 
size looked strangely unsatisfactory. They gave 
to the wall-space above the seat something that 
was at variance with the feeling of completeness 
that helps to make the charm of a cozy corner. 
In the attic sitting-room, the oval frame balances 
the lighting-bracket. Here you will notice the 
sewing-table. It was selected not only because it 
has quaint pockets and a girlish lightness of con- 
struction, but because its oval top relieves the 
long, narrow lines of the casement window 

through the introduction of a curve. In the girl's 
alcove nook, the long, low picture gives a space- 
meaning that no other shape would have ex- 
pressed as well. Two high, narrow panels, for 
instance, would have increased not only the 
height of the mantel, but the very height of the 
walls. That may be exactly the effect you need 
in some rooms. But here the mantel-shelf is 
high. What it needs is the broadening effect that 
the frieze gives it. Over the desk, the candle- 
sconce takes part with the photographs of girl 
friends in a triangular arrangement. 


In the boudoir there is another problem. 

This room is a small room in front of the 
upper hall, with which it is connected by double 
doors paneled with small panes of glass. The 
walls are not wainscoted, because wood paneling 
is too expensive. But the general line effect of 
wainscoting is expressed in an inexpensive way 
through the use of wooden strips and fabric pa- 
per. The wall-space has been divided horizon- 
tally into three parts by a chair-rail on a line 
with the window-apron and by another wooden 
strip continuing the line of the top of the window. 
There are three vertical strips making small 
upper and lower panels. Then there are the triple 
windows, the doors, and the broad panels against 
which the desk and the dressing-table have been 
placed. The dressing-table mirror fills the upper 
panel on the left side, but the panel above the 
desk needed an added space-division. To have 
used several small pictures would have broken the 
dignified wainscoted look that the strips are meant 
to give, but a single large picture of importance 
emphasizes this intention. 

The picture chosen for this position of honor 
is by Sir Joshua Reynolds. It is a portrait group 
of the three beautiful daughters of Sir William 
Montgomery. It is a picture full of youth and 
grace, and it reveals not only a world of fashion, 
but a world of taste and refinement. It reveals 
the world of the Chippendale chair. The Chip- 
pendale chair stands idly shoved back from the 
desk. Perhaps you have overlooked it. But a 
Chippendale chair is the English aristocrat of 
chair history, the culmination of beauty in Eng- 
lish chairdom. Its every part is full of meaning 
and history. 

In these four illustrations our aim has been to 
show you that your own four walls will respond 
to your dreams and longings ; to show you that a 
room is an art product, rich in thought and in all 
those qualities and possibilities that make for cul- 
ture and happiness through all your life. 




Some posies wear bonnets and aprons, 
While others have ruffles and frills. 

Some flowers climb up the steep mountains ; 
Their sisters seek out shady rills. 

Some blossom and thrive in the sunlight, 

Some droop when not tucked 'neath the shade ; 

A lot of them wear the bright colors, 
While others prefer those that fade. 


Some flourish and grow in a minute, 
While others are slow to make haste, — 

They seem almost like grown-up people, 
No two having quite the same taste. 

fr&w^qj" CUajX X^LuvJr,-] 

Canary, canary, light-hearted and merry, 

Whatsis it that warbles so sweet in your throat? 
I think it a whistle from down of a thistle 

And blown by a fairy to make a sweet note. 


Oh, blithely on the bango-bush the poojum piped his lay! 
(You know a springtime ballad must begin in some such way.) 
But Lady Ann was twice as blithe and several times as gay. 
"Te-he!" sang she, "they 've chosen me to be the Queen of May!' 

Well might the Lady Ann rejoice to hear of the intent 
To confer this honor on her, for 't was quite a compliment; 
But 't was not that that made the maid to singularly sing; — 
'T was because Sir Bing the Brigand was going to be the King ! 

5>ir BinQ and his band set fortft to collect some. cpins> ...... 

Sir Bing had worked at briganding for several years or more, 
And stood high in his profession (he was nearly six feet four) ; 
He was a great collector of curios and things, 
But he gave his chief attention to coins and diamond rings. 


Sir Bing loved Lady Ann ; a tender tune he tried to toot 
'Neath her window once, upon a moonlight evening and his flute; 
But the window (how discouraging!) was not the Lady Ann's, 
And— oh, well, let 's drop the subject and describe these May-day plans. 




The May-pole (brought from Poland) was in a lovely dell 
With waving grass and lofty trees and babbling brooks as well, 
And a pump that ran a fountain (though I regret to say 
That when the pump refused to work, the fountain could n't play), 

Sir Twiddle, the court poet, had composed a May-day song. 
Although each line had seven feet, 't was only one foot long. 
It had nine "ohs" and fourteen "hails," and lots of "thees" and "thys" 
And Sir Twiddle was so proud of it, he gave himself a prize ! 

Some noble youths and maidens were to dance the Dancorelle ; 
Just how they went about the thing I can't exactly tell. 
I think 't was like a cake-walk (or else a minuet) ; 
Some steps I can't remember, and the others — I forget. 

So everything was ready, quite, to greet the festal day 

With melody and mirth, and so it just remains to say 

(Though perhaps ere now this little point I ought to have explained) 

They did n't have their party, because, you see,— it rained! 



Author of " A Son of the Desert" 

Chapter VIII 


Of course the flowing robes and flaming colors 
of the Moorish costumes recalled to Ted the 
sights which he had witnessed in other days. 
There was the red fez (usually called a tarboosh 
in Egypt) and the thin muslin turban so ingeni- 
ously wound around it ; also the long jelebeeah, 
or cloak with sleeves, now of one color, now of 
another, and the bare brown legs, and the naked 
feet, or feet thrust loosely into red or yellow 
slippers. In many cases the men wore cream- 
colored haiks (long gowns) of cotton or woolen 
or even silk, which enveloped their entire bodies, 
legs and head, leaving visible only the brown 
bearded face at the top and the bright leather 
slippers at the bottom. 

There were three Moors thus arrayed who sat 
in silent dignity inside the water-gate, the Bab 
el Mezra, and inspected courteously, but care- 
fully, the baggage of Ted and Achmed. They 
must have been puzzled at seeing the young 
American walking about with a little sharp-eyed 
monkey on his shoulder ; perhaps they thought 
it was the custom of the country from which 
he came ; but their dignity showed no decrease ; 
their faces expressed no curiosity ; and the eldest 
of them, with a grand gesture that might have 
befitted a king, waved to our young travelers 
their permission to pass into the town. 

Once through the gate, the lads picked their 
way up an ascending, winding lane paved with 
cobblestones, and Ted began his acquaintance 
with the unswept, refuse-filled streets of a Mo- 
rocco town. As he pursued his slippery way, 
amid garbage and waste matter of all sorts, skip- 
ping like an agile goat from rock to rock, he 
remembered reading that Blondin, the famous 
acrobat and tight-rope walker, when he visited 
Tangier, left a record cm one of the hotel regis- 
ters saying that all his acrobatic skill was called 
out in his traversing the thoroughfares of the 

The lads were making their way, and direct- 
ing their porters, to the Hotel Bretagne, which 
overlooks the smaller sok, or market-place, of 
Tangier. On all sides could be seen specimens 
of the several races to be met with in the north- 
ern districts of Morocco. There were the Moors, 
a people of walled towns ; and the Jews, in black 


caftans and blue jelebeeahs, who are found in 
nearly all the Moroccan towns, and are much 
persecuted, but control the business and the 
money-markets wherever they live. Then there 
were tall Berbers from the highlands, many of 
them light in color, with brown hair, and all of 
them proud, reserved, watchful, with long inlaid 
muskets and curved daggers, and often with their 
red woolen gun-cases wound about their heads 
like turbans. A few men of the fierce Souss 
tribe of Arabs also could be seen, looking as if 
they needed only the slightest annoyance to lead 
them to shoot and strike right and left. 

"Balak ! Balak !" came a noisy cry behind Ted ; 
and he allowed to pass him a huge bow-legged 
Moor, bearing a staff with which he forcibly 
cleared his path if people were slow in getting 
out of his way. He was the servant of a richly 
clothed sheik, who rode leisurely behind him, 
on a splendid white horse. 

Other European tourists and travelers were to 
be seen, pricing and purchasing at the quaint 
little shops, which were set into the houses on 
either side of the narrow streets, like pigeon- 
holes in some large desk. Some of the ladies of 
these tourist parties carried parasols or um- 
brellas ; for the sun was now high in the heavens, 
and beat down with much heat. No Moor, man 
or woman, in all Morocco carries an umbrella, 
with one exception ; that is the mighty Sultan 
himself. When he leaves his palace at Morocco 
City, or Fez, or Mekinez, he is attended by 
slaves who hold over him an immense umbrella 
of red silk; and this umbrella, is a sign of his 
coming, and all his subjects must make way for 

Achmed, although he himself was a Bedouin 
of the Bedouins, and never laughed and rarely 
smiled in public, yet seemed to enjoy seeing his 
friend Ted Leslie give himself up, as he often 
did, to unrestrained laughter; Ted's sense of 
humor always was very keen. So it frequently 
happened, when the lads were walking about 
together, that Achmed called his companion's at- 
tention to funny incidents, and then quietly en- 
joyed Ted's more open and hearty enjoyment. 

That was what happened on this first day of 
their stay in Tangier. "Look ! Look there!" said 
Achmed, in a low tone, and nodded his head 
toward a corner where a narrow street opened 
into the main thoroughfare. 



Ted looked at once, as directed, and saw this: 
a string of three camels had come out of the 
narrow street, each with his head high in air, and 
a camel's usual scornful expression of counte- 
nance. Two or three European women— tourists 
probably— were standing upon a low terrace on 
the main street, at this corner ; they were looking 
in the other direction, up the street, and were 
quite unaware of the presence of the camels be- 
hind them. One of the women — the one nearest 
the little lane — wore a hat 
of the latest fashion, huge in 
its proportions, and deco- 
rated with great masses of 
bright artificial flowers. « 

As the first camel emerged 
from the narrow street, he 
evidently took note of this 
striking assortment of foli- 
age and flowers, but passed 
on; the next camel half 
stopped, turned his head, put 
his nose close to the hat, 
then shook his ears and like- 
wise passed it by. But the 
third camel, being of a 
greedier disposition, perhaps, 
and perhaps less keen of 
smell, and finding this tempt- 
ing mass of green and red 
and yellow exactly on a level 
with his jaws — his head be- 
ing fully nine feet above the 
street level— he seized the 
hat with his strong teeth, 
and wrenched it from the 
now terrified woman's head, 
nearly pulling her down into 
the street, and went calmly 
on his way, munching the 
dry mass with much content. 

He escaped the hat-pins 
because they were loosely 
adjusted and so fell out 
quickly, but Ted could see 
the fright of the now di- 
sheveled woman, and was 

glad when she quickly recovered herself, and, 
saying she was not hurt at all, began restoring 
her hair to partial order, and even joined in the 
merriment of her laughing companions. 

It must not be supposed that Ted and Achmed, 
amid the novelty of their surroundings, forgot, in 
the least, the supreme importance of the mis- 
sion on which they were bent; but the country 
was new to them both ; even though Achmed 
could speak easily with the Moors about him, 
Vol. XXXVII. -76-77. 

and Ted could make himself understood in most 
matters, yet they were not at all familiar with 
the customs and habits of thought of these peo- 
ple ; and they both knew that it was highly im- 
portant, for the success of their undertaking, that 
they should get as closely in line as possible 
with the people around them; otherwise there 
would be serious mistakes made, and even dan- 
gerous disputes might arise; for, as Achmed 
himself soon realized, the Moslem religion, of 


which he was a devout disciple, was marked by a 
more intolerant spirit in Tangier than in Egypt. 

One evening, when Achmed came in and 
learned about Ted's doings that day, he said, 
with grave countenance : "You would do well to 
put on the Moorish garb, my brother; once 
clothed in that, although you might not always 
pass for a Moor, you would not so quickly be 
taken for a foreigner. Did not I adopt the dress 
of Europe when I came to Europe?" 




It was reasonable, the young Bedouin's advice; 
but Ted hesitated ; he was reluctant to appear in 
public wearing the strange — and to him uncom- 
fortable—articles of the Moorish costume. He 
had tried them on, in the seclusion of his room, 
but felt as if he could never be at ease in them. 
There was the serwal, first, a pair of short baggy 
trousers; next, the schamir, a kind of cotton 
shirt, reaching below the knees; then the fara- 
jiah, a silk shirt over the other, and embroidered 
down the front ; then the fez and turban, and the 
loose slippers, or babooshes (always so true to 
their English name, always slipping off) ; and, 
last of all, for full dress, a cream-colored haik, 
a very large, loose garment, like a sheet, which 
could be made to completely envelop the wearer, 
head and all. 

Ted put on the costume, and danced about, and 
made faces at himself in the mirror, and laughed 
heartily at his own appearance. But he saw that 
sooner or later he must really wear it; and he 
held himself ready to do so, when it became ac- 
tually necessary. 

"The whole country of Morocco is in a very 
unsettled condition," said Achmed, as they were 
conversing later. "I have talked with many per- 
sons, of several tribes and several districts, and 
there is great unrest throughout the country." 

Ted listened attentively, and responded : "I 
have talked with the American consul, Mr. Wil- 
son, and he gives me the same impression ; but 
that must not prevent us from carrying out our 
plan ; do you think it will ?" 

Achmed shook his head slowly but firmly. "It 
is partly because of the danger of a revolution 
that we are here; and we will go forward. But 
whither? In which city or quarter of Morocco 
shall we find the Sultan, Abdul Hafid? Yes, and 
when we find him, how strong will he be on his 

"What do you mean by that question?" asked 
Ted, as Achmed paused and seemed to reflect. 

"This. The power of a sultan of Morocco is 
very uncertain. He rules some tribes and towns 
wholly; but others are half defiant toward him. 
Local sheiks and kaids, chiefs and governors, 
render him submission only because they fear 
his greater strength ; as soon as they suspect that 
he cannot back his commands and taxations with 
troops, with gun and spear, they openly revolt; 
then, if he dares, he attacks them, or kills them." 

Ted was not startled at this piece of informa- 
tion. It was not altogether new to him. He 
smiled, and remarked : "Well, I suppose, Achmed, 
the thing to do is to keep on the sunny side of 
the Sultan." 

Achmed nodded and smiled. "There is a 

claimant to the throne," he continued, "a fellow 
called Bou Hamara, who has come up from the 
lower Atlas range of mountains, and he pretends 
to be a direct descendant of the great prophet 
Mohammed— praised be his name forever! Peo- 
ple speak of him with caution and dread ; I think 
he has increasing power and influence. I could 
not learn all that I desired about him, nor could 
I learn exactly where the Sultan now is." 

Chapter IX 


The next morning our two young friends— no, 
our thrae young friends — were up soon after 
sunrise. Through a crevice in the shutters a ray 
of light entered their bedroom and made a great 
sphere of golden sunshine just above their heads; 
indeed, it was inquisitive little Mall'y's deter- 
mined attempt to pick this sunbeam off the wall 
that gave the last arousing touch to Ted's senses. 

"Have you found something new, old man ?" 
inquired Ted, opening his eyes, and laughing at 
his pet's vain attempts. "It 's stuck on hard; you 
can't get those little black fingers under the edge." 
And, thus chaffing the perplexed animal, Ted 
sprang out of bed, flung open the shutters, and 
leaned out into the clear, fragrant air. The in- 
tense, sparkling blue of the Mediterranean lay in 
the distance, the hazier blue of the Spanish coast 
range rose grandly beyond and above, and, in the 
foreground, the tinted walls of the houses gave 
the human touch to the scene. 

Scores of gown-clad men were moving about in 
the little sok, or market-place, below the window; 
the various races that dwell in Tangier were 
represented in the moving throng; almost under 
the window was a tiny cook-shop where women 
— veiled up to their dark eyes — were, frying flat, 
thin loaves of bread in seething pans of oil made 
from the nuts of the argan-tree. 

Off at the left, above the roofs, rose the tall 
minaret of a mosque; and, as Ted looked, he saw 
its white flag run up, and knew this as the sign 
of morning devotions; at the same moment a 
white-robed figure issued from a door in the min- 
aret, stood upon the balcony which ran entirely 
around the slender tower, and sent his powerful, 
rich voice resounding out over the city. "Prayer 
is better than sleep ! Prayer is better than sleep ! 
To your prayers! To your prayers!" 

After breakfast it seemed best that they go out 
for a stroll through the town, and especially 
through the large sok outside the wall, where one 
might pick up valuable bits of information. For 
the first time Ted yielded to his companion's 
gentle but repeated suggestions, and wore the 





Moorish garb. "You must certainly wear it later 
on," were Achmed's words, "and you need all the 
practice you can get, in order to wear it easily 
and appear as much as possible like a native." 

So, with much laughter, Ted arrayed himself, 
and they went out into 
the town. They soon 
passed through the old 
cracked gate which opens 
on the sok ; its rusty bolts 
and the greenish mold on 
its copper plates gave the 
gate an ancient and inse- 
cure appearance. Just 
outside, lined up against 
the wall, stood a file of 
Sudanese soldiers, their 
nearly naked bodies black 
and glistening ; they were 
the body-guard of the 
kaid, or Moorish gover- 
nor, who, as a lieutenant 
of the Sultan, ruled the 
native population of Tan- 
gier and the adjacent re- 
gion. Accustomed, as Ted 
now was, to the soldierly 
bearing of British troops, 
he thought the careless 
postures and awkward 
movements of these fel- 
lows very unmilitary; still, 
they carried modern rifles, 
and, as Ted knew, would 
shoot human beings, or 
cut off human heads, with- 
out hesitation, if so or- 

Although the hour was 
an early one for tourists, 
who could sleep in com- 
fortable beds, it was by no 
means early for the na- 
tives, who enjoyed but 
little shelter and other 
luxuries ; and the great 
market-place, semicircular 
in form, with a diameter 
of two hundred yards, 
was thronged with pic- 
turesque but wild-looking human beings. The 
day was a market-day, and the crowds were 
therefore unusually large ; the place swarmed like 
an ant-hill; donkey-drivers jostled their way 
along, shouting, "Balak ! Balak !" More care- 
fully moved a bhisti, a water-carrier, with a 
hairy goatskin of water slung over his back, and 

ceaselessly clinked two brass cups, to call atten- 
tion to his occupation; whole families from the 
interior valleys and deserts sat around their gar- 
den products — oranges, onions, carrots, and the 
like ; some men offered charcoal ; and a small 


group of women displayed a few embroidered 
cloths. A camel caravan had been expected in 
from Morocco City (Marrakesh, the Moors call 
it), but had encamped one or two miles outside 
the city, as a recent rain had made the roads 
muddy and slippery. Camels find very insecure 
footing where the ground is muddy; their big 




sponge-like feet stick fast, or they slide and fall, 
usually breaking bones. So the caravan must 
remain outside, for the present, on higher, rockier 

Ted was managing fairly well with his unac- 
customed garments, although the slippers — which 
are always worn with the rear part turned in 
under the wearer's heel — caused him some annoy- 
ance; he felt sure that he did not deceive any 
Moor who looked at him closely ; in fact, he now 
and then detected smiles on swarthy faces, which 
showed him that he had much still to learn. 

But he was bent on making himself proficient 
in wearing this strange garb, and he suggested 
that he and Achmed should try a short ride on 
horseback ; and horses, excellent ones, were easily 
obtained from the dealers in the sok. So they 
had a merry time of it, Achmed explaining to 
his companion how to mount, and how to gather 
his long robes up under him, in the Moorish 
fashion. They even pushed their ride out to the 
point on the Cafe Spartel road where the cam- 
els — scores of them — were waiting for drier and 
better walking. 

Achmed took this occasion to arrange with the 
sheik of one of the caravans for joining it on 
its return journey to Fez. This arrangement 
called forth all of the young Bedouin's shrewd- 
ness and patience ; but it was finally accomplished. 
Then, after a pleasant ride through an orange 
orchard, fragrant with its ripe, golden fruit, the 
boys turned back to Tangier. 

Chapter X 


As they rode into the town, and had just sur- 
mounted the circular crest of the hill above the 
large sok outside the wall, sunset came ; and they 
paused a moment to gaze across the flat-roofed 
houses and out over the strait. Never had the 
coast ranges of the Spanish Sierra Nevada lifted 
themselves with greater grandeur, and never was 
their gauzy drapery of azure more beautiful. As 
our young friends paused a moment to drink in 
the beauty of the scene, a faint booming sound 
came to their ears; and Ted remarked: "That is 
the sunset gun from the citadel. 'Gun-Fire' it is 
called by the dwellers at Gibraltar. I hardly sup- 
posed it could be heard as far as this." Then he 
fell into a momentary reverie about England, and 
naturally of the United States, so closely bound 
to "Mother England" by ties of history and kin- 

The high-souled young Bedouin beside him di- 
vined his mood and his line of reflection; for he 
said, in a quiet tone : "My brother thinks of home 

now. The Gun-Fire reminds him of those who 
are of his own race; but to Achmed, also, the 
sound brings pleasant memories ; it speaks of 
right and justice wherever the English flag floats, 
and that brings pictures of Egypt before him, his 
own home, where England has righted the wrongs 
of centuries." 

Thus the two friends felt their hearts knit to- 
gether by the common bond of respect for Eng- 
land, in whose service they were now enlisted. 

Naturally there were many things to plan 
about, in preparation for such a journey as our 
two friends were about to take ; some of these 
things Achmed thought of, and others occurred 
to the quick intelligence of Ted Leslie. The next 
day after their ride into the country Ted seemed 
to have some important matter on his mind ; he 
was evidently revolving some project, and had 
not reached any decision. Finally he went out, 
and in an hour he returned, bearing a small pack- 
age. Laying it on the table with great care, he 
began to open it, saying: "See here, Achmed, I 've 
had an idea ; I think it may turn out to be a big 
idea, too." 

Achmed turned slowly and inquiringly toward 
his American friend, and Ted continued: "Yes- 
terday I remembered reading about the famous 
French conjurer or sleight-of-hand performer 
Robert Houdin, who came over here into either 
Tangier or Algiers, a few years ago, and totally 
dumfounded these Moors and Arabs by his tricks 
of magic. I learned, then, how useful some such 
performance might be among people as ignorant 
and superstitious as these natives are." 

Here he laid open the package, and Achmed 
could see several small bottles and boxes, such as 
might have come from an apothecary's store. 
Then Ted said: "I took this idea of the wizard 
Houdin's, and put with it another idea, namely, 
that I should like to help any sick or injured peo- 
ple whom we might meet. And there are many 
such in the interior of the country, I am told. 
As you know, Achmed, I have made some study 
of medical matters, and I hope sometime to be- 
come a regular physician." 

"So I have heard you say," responded Achmed. 
"And I noticed that you read much in the big 
learned books at the hospital in Gibraltar." 

"Exactly," confirmed Ted. "Now I have here 
several simple drugs and some court-plaster and 
prepared bandages ; some of the drugs are for 
medical use — 'household remedies,' so to speak — 
and one or two others are to use in mystifying 
the natives, if the need arises. I bought them 
at a remarkably well-stocked drug-store kept by 
a Frenchman in the lane near the French consul's 
house. I shall not explain any more about them 




now, but I have an idea that they may come in 
handily somewhere along the route ; they may 
perhaps help some sick or disabled people out of 
their pain and sickness, and may possibly help us 
out of difficulties where nothing else would." 

When he had ended this explanation, Achmed 
responded : "Very good. My brother knows more 
about such matters than I, a Bedouin lad, can 
expect to; so I leave him to do as he thinks best." 
Then the two friends began actively preparing to 

There was always some small item of luggage 
which had been forgotten; and one item— by no 
means small, but very important— was the donkey 
which they now purchased ; and upon him they 
packed their slender stock of goods. 

Their money arrangement was this : each car- 
ried a handful or two of flouss (the local small 
coin of Morocco) and a small leather bag con- 
taining gold and silver Spanish coins. These ar- 
ticles, together with a good field-glass which Ted 
had purchased, and a few other knickknacks, were 
easily carried by our two friends under the ample, 
flowing Moorish garments which they wore. 

Another precaution which Achmed took should 
not be forgotten : he stained his young American 
friend's face and hands and the lower parts of his 
arms and legs with walnut juice ; this gave Ted 
the finishing touch, and he looked very much like 
a young Moor. 

"It strikes me," remarked Ted, as they saun- 
tered, in the proper listless Moorish fashion, out 
through the large sok and over the. hill, "that it 
would not be a bad idea to have some signal 
agreed upon between us, for use if we get sepa- 
rated or need to call for assistance." 

"Yes," assented Achmed, "that might be of 
great use. You mean some call or whistle, just as 
we had the signal-knocks on the hotel door." 

"Exactly. Now let 's have a whistle or a call 
like this; any simple sort would do; but let 's 
take this." 

And the resourceful lad softly whistled and 
then hummed, several times over, this group of 
sounds : 

-=£- 2 S— *«— 3 — j— y— q r^r: 

Achmed took up the signal, and the two re- 
peated it, at intervals of time, as they walked on, 

in order to familiarize themselves with it. As for 
Mr. Malloly, this device was quite beyond him ; 
evidently he was thinking it over, for he sat very 
still, several times, on the donkey's neck, with an 
almond in each hand, as if pausing to work out 
some mental problem ; but each time he gave it 
up, and attacked the nuts with confidence ; they 
were easier to crack than was this signal-puzzle. 

Our two travelers quickened their pace as soon 
as they were well outside the neighborhood of 
Tangier. They followed a broad, ill-defined road 
across the country, made by men and beasts, but 
untouched by wheels of vehicles. Over the plain 
they walked, and although their minds were more 
or less absorbed with thoughts about their im- 
portant mission, they enjoyed the sights and 
sounds which met their acute senses. 

This plain was literally carpeted with flowers; 
there were bright yellow marigolds, pink-and- 
white marguerites, and acres of crimson poppies. 
"Just like a great serubia [carpet] !" exclaimed 
Ted. "I can understand, now, where the Moor- 
ish rug-makers get their ideas of color and de- 
sign. Nature has given them these suggestions." 

As the two walked on, they saw, here and there, 
in the distance, shepherds or goatherds in charge 
of their flocks, and one of these half-naked fel- 
lows was sitting under a eucalyptus-tree, playing 
on a kind of flute made of two, reeds taken from 
the bed of the adjacent stream. A few brown 
and black Arab tents could also be seen, merely 
scattered homes, not grouped in any large num- 
ber to form a village or dchar. Children played 
around these primitive homes, and veiled women 
sat near, weaving. 

As Ted and Achmed proceeded on their jour- 
ney they met other travelers, of various races 
and of varying degrees of civility ; with these 
people they always exchanged salutations and 
greetings, blessing the name of the prophet Mo- 
hammed, and invoking all sorts of benefits on 
the person saluted. Ted did not trust his tongue 
to express more than the most formal phrases, 
and he hoped that he now managed his Moorish 
apparel with enough skill to avoid suspicion. He 
had an understanding with Achmed that if they 
were drawn into any conversation, he, Ted, was 
to say as little as possible, and was to take refuge 
in sundry Moslem phrases and formulas, which 
are profusely used by Moors to garnish even 
their commonest talk with one another. 

(7'c be continued.) 

By permission of C. W. Faulkner & Co., Ltd., I,ond 

. England, owners of the copyright. 



By permission of C. W. Faulkner & Co., Ltd., London, E. C, England, owners of the copyright. 




My mama has a pretty dress 

Of silk, that 's rich and fine; 
She wears it when there 's company 

Or when she 's out to dine; 
The collar has a velvet bow 

Below my mama's face ; 
The skirt is long, and very wide, 

The sleeves are trimmed with lace ; 
It shines and shimmers in the light, 

All changing, gold and green; 
I smile at her, and whisper low, 

"My mama is a queen !" 

My mama has another dress 

That 's cozy, soft and red. 
She wears it on "home evenings," 

When I am going to bed ; 
And after I have said my prayers 

And when I 've said good-night, 
I 'm not afraid of hurting it, 

I hug up to it, tight, 
And say, with arms round mama's neck, 

"Oh, have you ever guessed, 
That though your fine silk gown is grand, 

I like this dress the best?" 

Miriam S. Clark. 




Author of " The Crimson Sweater," " Tom, Dick, and Harriet," " Captain Chub," etc. 

Chapter X 


On Saturday the School Team journeyed to 
Providence to play Bannard, and the Indepen- 
dents used their gridiron, while Malcolm and a 
dozen helpers marked off the scrub field with 
whitewash brushes and pails of lime. There was 
a little signal work that day for the more ad- 
vanced candidates, Evan handling the first squad 
and a middle-class youth named Rogers playing 
quarter for the second. The work was decidedly 
encouraging, although somewhat ragged. The 
Second Team, with nothing to do, watched from 
the side-lines and had their fun, but it was all 
good-natured. Gus Devens told Rob that he was 
doing wonders and declared that he would n't 
have thought it possible to find eleven players as 
good as those in the first squad. 

"Oh, we have n't started yet," answered Rob, 
quietly. "Our coach comes Monday, and after 
that things will take a brace. One thing we need, 
Gus, is a good guard. You 'd better think it 

Devens stared. 

"Meaning me ? I 'd look nice, would n't I, 
throwing up my place and leaving the Second in 
the lurch in the middle of the season? You must 
be crazy, Rob. That 's not what I 'm here for." 

"All right. As long as you think that, Gus, 
you stay. When you change your mind, though, 
you mosey over to the other gridiron, and we '11 
look after you." 

The School Team came home that evening with 
its third victory, having managed to win from 
Bannard with a score of 6 to o. But the victory 
had cost something, for Tom Reid, left tackle and 
one of the strongest units of the line, had been 
hurt and would be out of the game for two weeks 
at least. 

On Monday, which fell very close to the middle 
of October, Walter Duffield made his appearance 
at Riverport. Those who had expected a large, 
stern-visaged individual were disappointed, for 
the former Brown tackle was not over five feet 
nine inches in height and weighed under a hun- 
dred and sixty. He was twenty-three years old, 
but did n't look it. He had a smiling, alert face, 
curly brown hair, a pair of quiet brown eyes, and 
a somewhat thin voice. He began proceedings 
by giving the candidates a talk on the grand 

stand, away from any possible eavesdropping on 
the part of the Regulars, as the Independents had 
grown to call the members of the First and Sec- 
ond teams. 

"Now then, you fellows," said Duffield, "I 'm 
here to show you what I know about foot-ball, 
and you 're here to learn. That means that I say 
and you do. Any one who does n't like that 
wants to run along right now. I 'm going to be 
'it' around here for the next month or so. You 
all understand that? All right. Now then, find 
your squads and let me see you handle the ball. 
Here, you fat boy, whatever your name is —what 
is it, by the way?" 


"Well, Jell, you want to move faster than that, 
or you '11 go to sleep. Let 's see you run. That 's 
it ! We '11 make a sprinter of you yet. Where 's 
your manager, Langton? How are you, Warne? 
Glad to know you. You stick with me this after- 
noon, please. I '11 want to ask a lot of questions, 
probably. Is that your 'Varsity Team over 

"Yes ; School Team we call it, sir." 

"What 's the matter with them? Are they 
walking in their sleep ? My, but I 'd like to be 
that quarter for a minute! All right. Now, let 's 
have a look at our own collection of wonders." 

For the first few days the Regulars regarded the 
doings of the Independents with amused curi- 
osity. When Walter Duffield appeared on the 
scene curiosity continued, but was richly leav- 
ened with resentment. The idea of those fellows 
having the services of a real coach, while they 
had to get along as best they might with Hop- 
kins, who, after all, knew no more foot-ball than 
many of the rest of them ! The idea of the school 
turning its back on the regular team and lend- 
ing its aid and support to a lot of renegades ! It 
was disgusting and annoying. 

Frank Hopkins's attitude had so far been one 
of amused tolerance. Prentiss, on the contrary, 
had let his chagrin get the better of his temper 
many times, and Rob and the others had heard at 
second or third hand many an unpleasant remark 
which had emanated from the manager of the 
School Team. So far, however, Rob had avoided 
controversy with either of them, although he 
and Joe Law had their arguments at almost every 
meal. On the Wednesday following the arrival 





of Duffield, Rob encountered Edgar Prentiss in 
the corridor of Academy Hall. Rob was for 
passing on with a nod, but Prentiss stopped him. 

"How 's the team getting on, Lanky ?" he asked, 
with an unpleasant smile. Rob did n't mind being 
called Lanky by fellows he liked, but resented it 
from Prentiss. So he answered rather shortly: 

"All right." 

"Hear you 've got a coach," pursued the other. 


"Got about everything but players, have n't 

"We 've got those, too, Prentiss. If you don't 
believe it, bring your team over some afternoon 
for practice. You '11 get it." 

Prentiss pretended to think that a pretty good 
joke and laughed loudly. Rob kept his temper, 
although it was n't easy. 

"Want a game, eh ?" asked Prentiss. "I dare 
say. Well, we 've got too much to do, Langton ; 
like to oblige you, but we 're busy." 

"I should say you had," answered Rob, with 
enthusiasm. "If you 're going to make a foot-ball 
team out of that aggregation of yours, you 've 
a lot to do. We don't want to play you ; get that 
out of your head; we 've got all the dates we can 
fill; only, if you really want to learn a little about 
the game, you see Warne, and if we have an open 
date, we '11 take you on. So long." 

On the steps Rob came across another Regu- 
lar in the person of Gus Devens. "Hello, Gus!" 
he said. "Well, I was wrong the other day, 
was n't I ?" 

"I dare say you were, Rob, only I don't recall 
the particular occasion." 

"When I said you would n't make the First 
Team. I suppose it spoils our chances of getting 
you to come over to us, but I 'm glad of your 
luck. You deserve it, Gus ; you 've tried long 

Gus looked puzzled and a trifle uneasy, as 
though he suspected Rob's sincerity. 

"What are you about, Rob?" he asked. 

"Why," answered Rob, looking surprised, 
"about your making the First Team, of course." 

"Who said I 'd made it?" asked Gus, glumly. 

"Why— why, I don't know. Maybe I just natu- 
rally jumped to the conclusion. I knew that Tom 
Reid was out, and of course you were the best 
man for the place. So I supposed—" 

"Yes, you did !" Gus growled. "You need n't 
rub it in." 

"Rub it in?" exclaimed Rob. with a fine show 
of innocence. "Do you mean that Hop did n't 
take you to the First?" 

"Not that I 've heard of. He moved Ward 
over from right and put Little in Ward's place. 

I suppose he knows his business, but I 'm jiggered 
if I don't think he might have given me a show, 

"Rather!" exclaimed Rob, warmly. "Why, 
Little can't play tackle ! He can't play— ping-pong ! 
Did you— say anything to him? Hop, I mean." 

"Not likely. I 'm not running his show. If 
he does n't want me, he does n't have to have me. 
But I 'm getting tired of his nonsense, I '11 tell 
you that " 

"Little 's a rather good friend of Prentiss's, 
is n't he?" 

"I dare say. Came from the same town, I 
think. The way that precious pair runs things 
makes me tired ! Maybe you '11 see me bringing 
my doll-rags over to play with you fellows some 
day, Rob, after all " 

"Well, don't do anything hasty," said Rob, 
soothingly. "Maybe you '11 make it yet." 

Gus laughed. 

"You 're foxy, are n't you, Lanky? See you 

Gus hurried into Academy, and Rob meandered 
toward Holden, smiling contentedly. 

The Independents stuck pretty closely to the 
rudiments of foot-ball for the first part of that 
week, but, since there was enough experienced 
material in the ranks to form a first and second 
squad, on Thursday Duffield, much to every one's 
surprise, held a ten-minute scrimmage. The big- 
gest surprise came when the coach put Jelly in at 
center. But, strange to say, Jelly took to the 
place like a fish to water, and, with Evan driving 
him and Duffield close on his heels every minute, 
showed evidence of real speed. The first squad 
as composed that day was as follows : right end, 
Cook ; right tackle, Kasker ; right guard, Chase ; 
center, Jell ; left guard, Koehler ; left tackle, 
James ; left end, Brimmer ; quarter-back, Kings- 
ford; right half-back, Lyman; left half-back, 
Langton ; full-back, Shaler. 

The work was pretty ragged that first day, but 
that was to be expected. Duffield scolded and 
threatened, and one would have thought, to hear 
him take on, that he was deeply disgusted with 
the material before him. Rob was certain of it 
and had visions of Duffield throwing up his posi- 
tion on the spot. And so, when, at the conclusion 
of the afternoon's work, the coach called him 
aside, Rob was prepared for the worst. Duffield 
made him put his sweater on and then took him 
by the arm and led him to a seat on the old grand 
stand. For a full minute Duffield said nothing, 
only watched the First and Second teams plug- 
ging away at each other on the farther gridiron, 
and Rob's heart sank lower and lower. At last, 
however, Duffield turned and spoke. 




"Well, Langton," he said, "I don't see why we 
can't turn out a pretty good team with those men." 

"Wh-what?" stammered Rob. 

"Why not?" asked Duffield. "We 've got good 
material ; better than the average, considering 
age. We 're going to be light, but that is n't 
anything to worry about. Take a light team and 
teach them the sort of plays that fit 'em, and 

did n't grab him ?" Duffield nodded toward the 
farther field 

"The same old story," answered Rob. "They 
did n't give him a chance to show what he could 
do. They had him on the Second for a few days, 
and then he hurt his ankle, and they lost all inter- 
est in him." 

"They must be a fine set of foot-ball players," 



they '11 hold their own with a team ten pounds 
heavier. I 've seen it time and again. Look at 
some of our teams at Brown ; look at last year's." 

"That 's so," murmured Rob, wondering 
whether his face was expressing the relief he felt. 

"We 've got to be fast, though, Langton, al- 
mighty fast ! We 've got to din speed into that 
crowd right along, every minute. If it conies to a 
choice between two men, the man with ginger 
gets the job. You 've got a find in that chap 
Kingsford. Where did he fall from?" 

"He 's new this year. Came from Elmira and 
played up there on his grammar-school team." 

"Well, how does it happen the other camp 

said Duffield, disgustedly "We 've got good end 
material, too, in Cook and that other chap — 
Brimmer. They 're showing up pretty well, al- 
ready. Kasker 's a good man at tackle, and 
Koehler 's another at guard. But the others in 
the center are n't much to boast of. Still, you 
can't tell what a week of coaching will do. That 
little fat Jelly boy may make a good center. If 
he can learn to keep awake, I think he will. Well, 
you 'd better run along and get changed. I '11 see 
you to-morrow." 

On Saturday the cut was made, and all but 
twenty-nine candidates were diplomatically in- 




formed that their further services would not be 
required. The disgruntled ones had a good deal 
to say, but they did n't find much sympathy ex- 
cept from one another. The School Team jour- 
neyed away from home that day and won a 
listless, poorly played game from Hope Hill 
Academy, 8 to o. During their absence the Inde- 
pendents held practice on the School Team's grid- 
iron, and in the twenty minutes of scrimmaging 
the first squad scored twice on the second, once 
by straight line-plunging and once with the help 
of a blocked kick which Kasker captured and 
then romped over the line. 

On Monday Malcolm announced that he had 
arranged for three games, the first to be played 
the following Saturday with Cardiff High School, 
the second with Hillsgrove High at Hillsgrove the 
Wednesday after, and the third with the Over- 
brook Academy Second Team three days later. 
The Cardiff game would be an ideal one for 
a first contest, since Cardiff was not a strong 
team. The Hillsgrove game was possible enough 
because Hillsgrove was only three miles distant, 
and the expense of getting there and back would 
amount to little. Rob wanted something better 
than the Overbrook Second for a third contest, 
but, as nothing better offered, was forced to be 
content with it. On that Saturday the Overbrook 
First Team was coming to Riverport to play the 
School Team, and the Overbrook Second would 
accompany it and take on the Independents as a 
side issue. 

"That leaves us one more Saturday and 
Thanksgiving Day," said Rob, thoughtfully. "I 'd 
like to get a couple of rattling games for those 
dates, Mai." 

"So would I," answered Malcolm, "but I don't 
know where to look for them. Every team has 
its dates filled, you see." 

"That 's the dickens of it. We '11 have a talk 
with Duffield to-morrow. Maybe he can suggest 

"I wish," said Jelly, who happened to be pres- 
ent at the time, "that we could have a game 
before Saturday. That 's a long time to wait, 
fellows. Could n't we find some one to take us on 

"I 'm afraid not," said Malcolm. 

"By Jove!" exclaimed Rob. "I 've got it! I 
heard that on Thursday the First 's going to lay 
off and take a rest for the Mifflin game ; they 're 
going out on the bay or some fool thing like 
that. Sounds like Prentiss, does n't it? Well, 
anyway, that leaves the Second with nothing 
doing. Suppose I see Gus Devens and ask him 
to play us a short game; say, fifteen-minute 
halves? It would be good practice, anyhow!" 

"Great!" said Evan, and the others agreed. 

"But will he do it?" asked Malcolm. "Will 
Hop let him?" 

Rob thought a moment. 

"I think he will do it if he can. You leave it 
to me, Mai, and don't any one breathe a word of 
it. I '11 see what can be done. Land o' Goshen, 
but I 'd like to take a fall out of the Second!" 

"We could beat the boots off of them," declared 
Jelly, stoutly. 

The next afternoon, following the practice, the 
Independents held an election in the rowing-room 
of the gymnasium and made Rob permanent cap- 
tain of the team. There were no other candidates 
for the honor, and the choice was unanimous. 
The next evening, Wednesday, Rob called on Gus 
Devens after study hour. Gus lived in Second 
House and shared his room with Joe Law. Luck- 
ily for Rob's plans, Law was not at home when he 
got there. After a few minutes of talk, Rob 
remarked : 

"I suppose, Gus, Hop and Prentiss make you do 
about as they want, don't they?" 

"How do you mean?" 

"I mean as regards your team. I suppose, for 
instance, you could n't get up a practice game 
with another team without asking their permis- 

Gus viewed Rob speculatively. 

"Meaning with your outfit ?" 

Rob nodded. Gus considered. Then, 

"To-morrow, you mean?" Rob nodded again. 
Gus smiled ; then he laughed. 

"They 'd be as mad as hornets, Rob, but I '11 
do it if I can get the fellows together." 

Chapter XI 


Duffield shrugged his shoulders. 

"To be sure," he said, "play them. But don't 
expect to win. That Second Team has been to- 
gether all fall, and you chaps have n't played 
together once yet except in practice. But it '11 
be good for you. What time?" 

"Four-thirty," answered Rob. "The First 
Team and subs are going out on the bay. Pren- 
tiss and Hopkins think they need a rest." 

"What they need," snarled Duffield, "is a stick 
of dynamite under 'em. Four-thirty, you said?" 

"Yes, sir. Devens wants to wait until Hop 
and Prentiss get out of the way. He says the 
Second is crazy to play us." 

"H'm ; well, look out they don't use you up. 
Remember we 've got a real game the day after 
to-morrow. Better get busy now and run through 
signals for ten minutes or so." 




Five minutes later the Second Team began to 
trickle out of the gymnasium. They had a few- 
minutes' practice on the school gridiron, and then 
Gus Devens walked across in search of Rob. 
The latter saw him coming and called a halt, and 
Duffield sent the first squad to the side-lines. 

"All ready, Rob ?" asked Gus. 

"All ready. We 'd better play over there, 
had n't we? This field is pretty rough." 

"I think so," Gus replied. "Who 's going to 
referee for us?" 

"Any one you say. How about Duffield?" 

"He will be satisfactory to us, I dare say. I 
suppose you know I 'm going to get Hail Co- 
lumbia for playing with you chaps?" 

"I should say you are!" laughed Rob. "Come 
on and meet Duffield." 

The coach was extremely polite, but not genial, 
and Gus felt somehow as though he were on the 
wrong side of the fence. 

"Will you referee, Mr. Duffield?" he asked. 

"If you like. Want to toss now?" 

"You call it, Rob." 

"Heads," said Rob. 

Duffield picked up the coin. 

"Tails," he announced. 

"We '11 take the west goal," said Gus. "Second, 
this way !" 

Two minutes later Koehler kicked off and the 
game was on. Peeble, the Second Team's quarter, 
caught the ball and gained nearly twenty yards 
before he was downed. Then the Second began 
to make short but unpleasantly steady gains 
through Chase, who played right guard, and past 
James at left tackle. An occasional plunge at 
center netted little, for Mr. George Washington 
Jell proved a tough proposition. The ball crept 
down the field to the Independents' thirty-yard 
line. There Devens and Peeble held a whispered 
consultation, and on the next play Peeble tried a 
quarter-back run. But he chose the wrong side 
of the line, and Brimmer, left end, nabbed him 
for a loss. With twelve yards to go and only two 
downs left, Peeble sent the backs at the line 
again. But the Independents were encouraged 
by their momentary success, and the gain was 
short. Peeble was evidently at a loss, for he 
twice changed his signals and then consulted 

"You 're delaying the game," cautioned Duf- 

"Hinkley back !" called the Second's quarter, 
and the team arranged itself to protect the kicker. 

"It 's a fake!" cried Rob. "Look out for a 
forward pass !" 

The ball went back to Peeble, and he bounded 
to the side and poised himself for the throw. 

Then Brimmer squirmed through outside Devens 
and hurled himself on Peeble just as the latter 
sent the ball away. The pass was spoiled, Evan 
tipping it and then falling on it, with half the 
Second Team writhing about him. 

It was now the Independents' time to show 
what they could do at offense, and Evan went at 
it hammer and tongs. The team, even in one 
short week, had learned speed, and the way the 
plays were pulled off was a veritable revelation 
to the Second. The backs were "knifed" through 
the Second's line time and again for gains of two 
and three yards, being stopped only when the 
back-field defense was reached. Rob distin- 
guished himself that day as a line-plunging back. 
He went in low and hard and at top speed, and 
tore and squirmed and fought his way through, 
keeping his feet astonishingly. On the third 
down, time and again, it was Rob who took the 
ball and made the required distance, often with 
barely an inch to spare. Had the Independents 
possessed at that time any semblance of real 
team-play and rallied around the runner as they 
should have, Rob's gains would have been consid- 
erably lengthened. But, even as it was, the ball 
was soon past the middle of the field, and Devens 
and Peeble were imploring their men to hold, to 
"get low," to "break this up." Almost down to 
their opponents' forty-yard line, the Independents 
met a reverse. Lyman, right half-back, fumbled, 
and the Second got the ball. 

Peeble sent his backs at the Independents' line 
again, but now the latter had tasted battle, had 
got over any stage-fright they may have had at 
first, and were fast learning what to do and how 
to do it. Two tries netted the Second but eight 
yards, and Hinkley punted. Lyman, playing back 
with Evan, fumbled his catch, but recovered it 
again, eluded a Second Team end, and reeled off 
twelve or fourteen yards before he was brought 
down. There remained but a bare two minutes of 
playing-time, and Rob, after he had torn off three 
yards and Shaler, full-back, had gained two more, 
punted the ball down to the Second's thirty-five. 
The Second sent Hinkley back again and returned 
the punt on the first down, relying, evidently, on 
another fumble in the Independents' back-field. 
But it was Evan who made the catch this time 
and who dodged at least half a dozen of the 
enemy and brought the ball almost to the middle 
of the gridiron. Then time was called by Warne, 
who was combining the offices of timekeeper and 
linesman, and the teams trotted off. 

Duffield followed his charges over to a shel- 
tered position behind the old grand stand and saw 
them well wrapped in their blankets. Then one 
by one he drew the players aside and pointed out 




their mistakes. When it came Evan's turn, he 

"You did pretty well, Kingsford, all things con- 
sidered. But you slowed up a little toward the 
end. That 's what you 've got to guard against. 
I want you to drive the team 
just as hard in the last two 
minutes as in the first, harder 
if it can be done. Remember 
that the other team is as tired 
as you are, and perhaps a lot 
more tired. If they 're big 
and heavy, with a little too 
much flesh, they 're bound to 
be feeling it more than you. 
That 's the time to snap it 
along, Kingsford. Now an- 
other thing. You 've got to 
use your wits I know we 're 
hard up for plays as yet, but 
you can make what we have 
got go better if you study 
things a bit. Watch how 
each play works. If you send 
a back outside of end and 
find later that that end is 
playing wide and looking for 
another play of the same 
sort, why, jab a runner in- 
side of him Or if you find 
he is running in fast on plays 
directed at his end, take the 
ball yourself and try a wide 
end run. Don't get into a rut 
with your plays ; keep them 
guessing every minute. In 
the next half I want you to 
cut out the punting unless 
the other fellows have shoved 
you inside your twenty yards. 
You need n't be afraid of a 
field-goal, I think. If you get 
inside their twenty yards, 
Kingsford, hammer Langton 
and Shaler at their right 
guard. That chap 's soft, and 
I think he will quit after you 've roughed it up with 
him a few times. But leave him pretty generally 
alone until you 're where you can take it out of 
him. If you use him up early in the half, Devens 
will put in a substitute. That 's all; except this: 
fast, fast, fast !" 

Duffield slapped him on the shoulder and sent 
him back to the others. Then Warne announced 
that time was up, and Duffield followed the men 
onto the field again. He had made no changes as 
yet in the line-up, for all the fellows had wea- 

thered the first half in good shape, and he wanted 
them all to have a good taste of experience. By 
this time news of what was going on had reached 
the school, and there was quite an audience strung 
along the side-lines, an eager crowd of spectators. 


Devens had made but one change in his team, 
and Duffield and his charges were relieved to ob- 
serve that the new man was not a right guard. 
He was a full-back, by name Putnam, and his one 
forte was kicking. 

"That means that they '11 try for a field-goal if 
we give them the chance," whispered Rob to 
Evan, as they took their places. 

"Then they must n't have the chance," an- 
swered Evan. "Anyhow, they 've weakened their 
back-field, for Deering is a good man, you know." 




Then Duffield blew his whistle, the Second's 
center kicked off, and the second half began. 
For the first six or eight minutes it was virtually 
a repetition of the preceding period. The ball 
changed hands a little more often, perhaps, for 
each team played together rather better and each 
rush-line was stiffer. The half was more than 
half gone when the spectators got their first taste 
of excitement. The Second worked a pretty for- 
ward pass, quarter to left end, and left end went 
dodging and scampering over four white lines be- 
fore he was laid low. That brought the pigskin 
to the Independents' eighteen-yard line. A fake 
plunge at center with the runner cutting past 
tackle gained five yards, and a mass-play on the 
right side of the line gained two more. Then 
Putnam was sent back, and the Independents set 
their teeth and crouched low to get through and 
block at any cost. 

Back went the ball, and Putnam, rather ner- 
vous because he had not been used much as yet, 
dropped it in front of him and swung his long leg 
back. Toe and ball met, but Kasker and Jelly 
were through, and it was Jelly's ample form that 
got between ball and cross-bar. There was a loud 
thump, a mingling of cries alarmed and trium- 
phant, and a wild scurry for the elusive oval.- Up 
the field it bounded and trickled, and player after 
player hurled himself upon it, only to have it slip 
from his grasp and begin a new series of gym- 
nastics. It was the Second Team's left guard 
who finally captured it, and by that time it was 
back past the thirty-yard line. The audience 
yelled approval, and Rob thumped Jelly on the 
back and called encouragement. The catastrophe 
had unsettled the Second, and in three downs the 
ball changed hands again. 

"How much time is there?" called Evan. 

"Almost six minutes," answered Malcolm. 

Then Evan snapped out his signals, Rob fell 
back as though for a punt, and Evan skirted the 
Second's left end for a good twelve yards. Three 
plunges at the left of the opposing line gave them 
their distance again, and the ball was just short 
of the fifty-five-yard streak. Then came some 
pretty playing on the part of the Independents, 
while the spectators ran along the side-lines and 
cheered madly. Shaler, who had been used very 
little so far in the half, was given the ball time 
after time and went fighting through for a yard, 
two yards, three, sometimes even four. Three 
times the Independents made their distance on 
line attack. Then the measuring-tape showed 
that they had failed, and, to Evan's despair, the 
ball went to the Second. On the threshold of the 
enemy's goal, luck had turned her back ! 

But if luck can turn once it can turn again, 
and it did. After one ineffectual plunge at 
right tackle Peeble sent Putnam back. Again the 
Second's line failed to hold, and Putnam, with 
another blocked kick threatening him, swung hur- 
riedly, and the pigskin went hurtling out of 
bounds at the forty yards. Evan took up the fight 
again, sending Lyman outside of left tackle for a 
short gain, and then winning the distance in two 
plunges at the tackle-guard hole on the left. The 
thirty-yard mark passed under foot. The Second 
was getting slow now, and Evan, with no mercy 
for his own tired men, sent his plays faster and 
faster. Gus Devens began to put in substitutes : 
a new man at left end, a new man at left guard, 
a new man at center. But Corbett, at right guard, 
remained, and Evan sighed with relief. Nothing 
about Corbett suggested the quitter to Evan, nor 
did the fellow seem soft, but Evan relied on Duf- 
field's judgment. It was second down now and 
eight to go, and the ball was still a good five 
yards from the twenty-yard line. Evan pulled 
Rob aside and whispered to him. Rob nodded, 
glancing at the cross-bar of the goal. Then he 
went back, patted the ground, and held his arms 
out. The team formed for defense of kicker. 
Back went the ball, but not to Rob, although that 
youth seemed to catch it and swing his leg at it. 
It went to Evan, and Evan doubled himself over 
it an instant, and then, straightening up and dodg- 
ing his way behind the battling lines, he found an 
opening and went spinning through, and would 
have had a clear field to the goal-line had not 
Putnam redeemed himself and brought him down 
some fifteen yards short of the last mark. Pan- 
demonium reigned along the side-lines. Duffield, 
inscrutable and impartial, allowed himself the 
ghost of a smile as he waved to Malcolm and an- 
nounced : "First down !" 

Then, fighting like heroes, Rob and Shaler 
hurled themselves upon the Second's right guard, 
and Duffield's prediction came true. Corbett 
gave, slowly at first, until, although the Second's 
back-field rallied behind him, he was worse than 
useless, and Devens, crying for time, sent him 
staggering off and put a new man in his place. 
The ball was inside the five yards then, and the 
spectators were imploring a touch-down. 

They got it. 

Evan sent Rob again at the same place, and, 
although the new man was fresh and strong, and 
although the Second expected the play, the Inde- 
pendents went through. There was a wavering, 
indecisive moment, and then the defending line 
buckled inward, and the foe came swaying, fall- 
ing through for a touch-down and the game. 

(7V be continued.) 

Copyright, 1896, by I-ishel, Adler, and Schwartz, New York. 

" PETS." 



{More "Betty" Stories)* 


"Oh, Betty, I 'm so upset !" exclaimed Dorothy- 
Bates, as she came into the McGuire library one 
afternoon in early May. 

"What 's the matter, Dotty?" asked Betty. 
"The party is n't off, is it?" 

"No ; we 're to go, all right ; but Jeanette can't 
go. She has such a cold, her mother won't let her 
go away from home. And I 've just come from 
there. She really is ill; is n't it too bad?" 

"Yes, indeed it is ! We would have had such a 
lovely time, all together." 

"Well, we '11 go, anyhow. And, Betty, as Irene 
expects three of us, I think it would be nice to 
ask some one to go in Jeanette's place. I 'd like 
to ask Constance Harper, but I know you don't 
like her very much." 

"Oh, I like Constance well enough, but she 
does n't like me." 

"Well, whichever way it is, you two never 
seem to get along very well together. But who 
else is there?" 

Betty hesitated a minute, then she said : 

"I 'd like to ask Martha Taylor." . 

"Martha! Why, Betty, nobody likes Martha. 
And well— you know Martha, poor girl, has to 
count every penny, and — and she never seems 
quite at her ease— not that that 's anything 
against her, but she would ri't have pretty dresses 
and hats, and the people at Halstead House are 
often dressy and gay." 

"I know it; but if Martha does n't mind that, 
we need n't. And, Dorothy, you don't know 
Martha as well as I do. She never has any good 
times, and it 's that that makes her shy and awk- 
ward. Oh, do ask her to go with us, if only for 
my sake." 

"Betty, what a queer girl you are ! I like 
Martha well enough, but I don't believe she '11 go 
with us. I '11 ask her, though, as you 're so set 
upon it." 

"What 's this enthusiastic discussion all about?" 
asked Mrs. McGuire, pausing at the library door, 
as she was passing through the hall. 

"Oh, Mother, come in!" cried Betty. "What 

do you think ? Jeanette is quite ill and she can't 
go with us to the house-party at Irene Hal- 

"That is too bad ; I 'm very sorry. Shall you 
ask any one in her place, Dorothy?" 

"That 's just what we 're talking about, Mrs. 
McGuire. Betty thinks it would be nice to ask 
Martha Taylor, but I don't think she quite fits in." 

"But think how she 'd enjoy it! Martha al- 
most never gets invited to a lovely outing like 
this one you have in prospect. Why, she 'd be 
overjoyed to go." 

"Yes 'm, I s'pose she would," admitted Dor- 
othy; "but she 's — she 's so bashful, you know." 

"That 's mostly because you girls slight her. 
Now you 've a fine opportunity to give her a 
pleasure, do it, and do it heartily and kindly. Let 
her feel that you really want her to go with you." 

"Yes, do," said Betty; "and, truly, Dot, if you 
ask her as if you wanted her, and if you treat 
her cordially, you '11 be surprised to see how gay 
and jolly Martha will be." 

"All right," said Dorothy, agreeably ; "I really 
do like her, and I '11 do my best. Come on, Betty, 
let 's go and ask her now." 

Betty whisked away, and returned in a few 
minutes with her hat on, ready to start. It was 
but a short walk through the bright May sun- 
shine to Martha's house, and they found her in 
the garden, watering some flower seeds she had 
just planted. 

"Hello, Martha !" called the two girls, and she 
came running to meet them. 

"Come, sit on the veranda," she said ; "it 's so 
pleasant there. I 'm glad you came to see me." 

"We 've come to invite you to a party," said 
Dorothy, plunging into the subject at once. 

"A party!" exclaimed Martha. "Where?" 

"Oh, Martha," cried Betty, "it 's more than a 
party— it 's a house-party! At a lovely country 
place, — Dorothy's cousin's, — and we 're to stay 
from Wednesday till Saturday! Is n't that grand?" 

It was so grand that Martha could scarcely 
realize it. 


* Betty McGuire, a waif from an orphan-asylum, is an under-servant in a boarding-house. 

Suddenly she comes into a large fortune, which she inherits from her grandfather who died in Australia. Somewhat bewildered by her 
good luck, but quite sure of what she wants, Betty buys a home, and then proceeds to "buy a family," as she expresses it. 

She engages a lovely old lady as housekeeper, but adopts her as a grandma, and calls her so. She takes Jack, a newsboy, for her brother, 
and she selects a dear little child from an infant orphan-asylum for her baby sister. 

With this "family, "and with some good, though lowly, friends who were kind to her when she was poor, for servants, Betty lives at her new 
home, Denniston Hall. 

By reason of several circumstances Betty feels sure her relatives may be found, if she searches for them. 

Her search results in finding her own mother, who is overjoyed at finding again the daughter who, sbe supposed, had died in infancy. 

Vol. XXX-VII.-78. 6i 7 




"I go ?" she said. "For three whole days ! Oh ! 
what a party !" 

"Yes, it 's going to be lovely," said Dorothy. 
"A May party on Friday, and lots of picnics and 
things on the other days. Will you go with us, 

"Indeed, I will ! I 'm sure Mother '11 let me. 
But, girls, I don't know if my clothes are good 
enough for such a grand place." 

"Oh, pshaw!" said Betty. "Don't think about 
that. Just come on and have a good time, and 
never mind what you wear." 

Mrs. Taylor was delighted to have Martha go 
with the other girls, and at once set about fur- 
bishing up her wardrobe as best she could. 

And, indeed, when at last the day came to 
start, Martha, in her trim, neat traveling-suit, 
looked almost as well dressed as the other two. 
They were to travel in charge of Mr. Halstead, 
Dorothy's uncle, who was returning to his coun- 
try home after a short business trip to Boston. 

He was a genial, affable sort of man, but after 
a little kindly conversation he left the girls to 
entertain themselves, and became absorbed in his 

Martha was as happy as a bird. The prospect 
of the good time coming seemed to transform 
her, and she was so gay and merry that Dorothy 
concluded she had misjudged her, and that Betty 
was right about her. 

When they at last reached Halstead House, 
Irene was on the veranda to greet them. 

She kissed her cousin Dorothy and greeted her 
warmly, and then welcomed the other two as 
Dorothy introduced them. 

Neither Betty nor Martha had ever met Irene 
before, but Mrs. Halstead had written for Dor- 
othy to bring two friends with her, and so the 
girls were at once made welcome. 

Two other girls were visiting Irene, so the 
house-party numbered six young people, and a 
gay flock they were. Maude Miller and Ethel 
Caswell were from New York, and proved to be 
pleasant and kindly, so Martha was not shy or 
embarrassed, and soon the half-dozen were chat- 
ting away like old friends. 

Halstead House was a large colonial mansion 
with innumerable rooms and wide porches and 

Irene was the eldest child, and there were also 
a small boy and a baby girl of three. The little 
Daisy reminded Betty of Baby Polly, and she 
made friends with her at once. 

Friday was Irene's birthday, and in honor of it 
there was to be a May party, with a May-queen, 
May-pole, and all the traditional features. Of 
course this was the principal event of their visit, 

but the six girls managed to have a lot of fun 
besides. There was a lake on which to row, 
a pony-cart to drive, tennis-courts, croquet- 
grdunds, and everything that could make country 
life pleasant. 

On Thursday afternoon the girls decided to 
walk down to the village. 

It was a pleasant walk along shady roads, and 
in a short time they found themselves in the tiny 
hamlet, with its little post-office and two or three 
small shops. 

Martha had been in especially gay spirits all 
the way. She had laughed and joked until Dor- 
othy began to feel she had reason to be proud of 
her merry friend instead of ashamed of her. 

But Betty looked at Martha curiously. She 
could n't quite understand her to-day. Several 
times Martha had started to say something to 
Betty, and then stopped, as if afraid the others 
would hear. 

"What is it, Martha?" asked Betty, at last, 
dropping a little behind the others. "What are 
you trying to say?" 

"Oh, nothing," said Martha, turning red and 
looking embarrassed. Then, as if with a sudden 
determined effort, she turned to the whole group 
and said : 

"Will you — won't you— all come in and have 
ice-cream with me?" 

It was a pleasant invitation, but Martha stam- 
mered so and seemed so nervous about it that 
Irene hesitated before implying. Betty hesitated, 
too, for she knew that Martha had little, if any, 
spending-money, and she wondered at this unex- 
pected hospitality. 

But Martha turned pleading eyes upon her. 

"Make them come, Betty!" she said. "I 'd be 
so glad if they would." 

"Come on, girls," said Betty. "Indeed, Martha, 
we 're very glad to accept your invitation ; it 's so 
warm and dusty." 

Dorothy, though mystified at Martha's sudden 
role of Lady Bountiful, took her cue from Betty 
and said : 

"Oh, how lovely ! I 'm just famishing for ice- 

The others accepted gracefully, too, and they 
all went into the latticed inclosure where ice- 
cream was sold. There were many little tables 
and chairs, and pushing two tables together, the 
girls all sat round, and Martha asked each one to 
choose her favorite flavor. 

Martha looked very happy and a little excited; 
her cheeks were red and her eyes bright, and 
Betty thought she had never seen her look so pretty. 

"Are n't we having a good time ?" said Ethel 
Caswell, as they slowly ate the refreshing dainty. 




"Yes, indeed," said Maude Miller. "It 's my 
turn to treat next. Let 's come down here again 
to-morrow morning, and I '11 buy the ice-cream." 

"All right," agreed the others, and Betty and 

offer any remonstrance, and the pretty cakes were 
brought and enjoyed by all. 

When at last the little feast was over, the check 
was brought and handed to Martha. Betty did n't 

- -t 


Dorothy secretly resolved to find some pleasant 
way to do their share of the "treating." Martha 
beamed with pleasure to think she had been the 
one to start a round of merry times, and, as an 
additional touch to their present feast, she ordered 
some small cakes. Betty and Dorothy looked 
frankly astonished, for it was an expensive little 
place, and they wondered if Martha knew how 
much her "spread" would cost. 

But Martha smiled so gaily that they could n't 

see the amount, but she saw that again Martha 
turned scarlet and looked embarrassed. But, with 
an air of endeavoring to look unconcerned, she 
drew a crisp, new five-dollar bill from her purse, 
and then, receiving her change, she put it away 
with the same elaborate carelessness, not stopping 
to separate the notes from the silver. 

"Whatever is the matter with Martha?" thought 
Betty. "She 's trying to act a part, I think." 

Back walked the merry half-dozen girls to 




beautiful Halstead House, and grouped them- 
selves on the veranda to wait for dinner-time. 

"Let 's build air-castles," said Irene. "What 
would yours be, Betty?" 

"Do you mean that could be real, or could n't?" 

"Yes, that could be real, but are n't likely to 
be, you know." 

"Yes, I know," said Betty, promptly. "Well, 
I 'd be a princess, with golden hair all twined 
with pearls ; and a long white satin train, with 
little page-boys holding it ; and slaves fanning me 
with long peacock-feather fans." 

"My, how fine!" said Dorothy, "but it 's too 
story-booky for me. My air-castle is just to 
travel all oVer the world — not by any magic, but 
just travel in real cars and boats, and see all the 
countries there are." 

"I think that 's a nice air-castle," commented 
Irene. "What 's yours, Ethel?" 

"Oh, I 'd like to be famous ; a great celebrity, 
you know. I don't, care whether it 's in the musi- 
cal or artistic or literary line. But I 'd like to 
feel, and to have other people feel, that I 'd done 
something grand." 

"I don't believe you ever will," said Maude, 
laughing. "Now, my air-castle is awfully prosaic. 
I 'd like to be a nurse." 

"Oh, what a funny air-castle !" exclaimed 
Martha. "How can you like to be mixed up with 
sickness and medicines and such things?" 

"That 's just what I should like. And then to 
feel that I was helping to make people well ! Oh, 
I think that 's fine !" 

"Yes, I s'pose it is," said Martha. "Mine is n't 
so noble; I 'd just like to be at the head of a big 
house— about like this— and have a lot of money. 
Not a great fortune, but just enough to entertain 
my friends and give them good times— just as 
Mrs. Halstead does." 

"That 's very pretty, my dear," said Mrs. Hal- 
stead herself, who had just stepped out on the 
veranda to summon the young people to dinner. 
And again Martha became embarrassed and 
blushed rosy red, as Mrs. Halstead smiled at her 

The next day was fair and beautiful, a perfect 
day foi a May party. 

"It 's a few days past the first of May, which is 
the real May-day," said Mrs. Halstead, at break- 
fast, "but as it 's Irene's birthday, we thought 
we 'd celebrate it by a May party. So it 's an 
afternoon affair, from four to seven, and we '11 
have a May-pole dance to wind up with." 

"And a May-queen ?" asked Betty. "Queen 
Irene, of course." 

"Yes," said Mrs. Halstead, "Irene will be 
queen, as it 's her party. And all you girls must 

be ladies-in-waiting. You may make wreaths for 
yourselves and trim your dresses with flowers or 
garlands any way you choose. Now, scamper, 
and don't bother me, for I 've lots of things to 
attend to." 

"May n't we help you, Mrs. Halstead?" asked 

"No, my dear. There 's really nothing you 
could do to help. Indeed, you '11 assist me most 
by entertaining yourselves." 

"All right," said Ethel. , "As Maude has in- 
vited us to go to town with her, we '11 have that 
•to entertain us this morning." 

But as they walked out of the dining-room and 
through the broad hall, Maude said : 

"I '11 have to take back my invitation, girls. 
I 'm not going to take you to get ice-cream this 

"Why not?" cried Ethel, impulsively, and then, 
as they all saw that Maude did not smile, they 
felt rather uncomfortable. 

For a few moments nobody spoke, and then 
Betty, to change the subject, said: 

"All right ; let 's play tennis, then." 

But there was a constraint over them all, and 
no one knew exactly why. 

To be sure, it was strange for Maude to invite 
them to go for ice-cream, and then to recall her 
invitation so suddenly. .But they each felt there 
was more than that in the air, and Maude looked 
so disturbed that it seemed there must be some- 
thing serious the matter. 

So strong was the conviction that it would prove 
embarrassing, that Betty repressed her inclina- 
tion to invite the girls to take ice-cream with her 
instead of Maude. 

Instinctively she felt she had better not do 
this, and so she proposed tennis instead. 

Half-heartedly they went for their rackets, 
and as they went toward the courts, Irene and 
Maude fell behind and talked in whispers. Then 
they turned and went back to the house. 

The other four went on, and had nearly fin- 
ished a set of tennis when the two rejoined them. 

Maude looked angry, and Irene looked as if 
she had been crying, but no questions were asked, 
and no information was offered as to the cause. 

"Take my racket," said Betty to Maude, "and 
play a set with Martha. I 'd just as lief sit and 
watch you." 

"No, thank you," said Maude. "I don't care 
to play." 

Betty looked up suddenly at this, and saw 
Maude give Martha a contemptuous glance and 
turn away. 

Martha turned red and looked dismayed, as she 
well might at such a speech. 




"What do you mean?" exclaimed Betty, ready 
to take up the cudgels for Martha, if need be. 

"Never you mind," said Maude. "Martha 
knows what I mean !" 

"I don't!" stammered Martha, choking with 
mortification at being thus spoken to. 

"Oh, yes, you do !" said Maude. "I 'm very 
much obliged for your ice-cream!" 

"Betty, what does she mean?" cried Martha, 
turning helplessly toward her friend. 

"She does n't mean anything," said Irene, look- 
ing angrily at Maude. "Mother told you to wait." 

Maude turned sullen, and refused to say any- 
thing. Betty looked mystified, but was n't sure 
whether she ought to insist on an explanation or 

She had been responsible for bringing Martha, 
and if Maude did n't like her, it was unfortu- 
nate, but to discuss it might only make matters 

Dorothy, with her ready tact, came to the 
rescue. "You four play," she said, throwing 
down her racket, "and Maude and I will go for a 
row on the lake." 

Maude brightened up at this, and Betty con- 
cluded that she had been merely ill-tempered over 
nothing, after all. 

"I 'm going to tell you," said Maude to Dor- 
othy, as they pushed out on the lake, "but I prom- 
ised Mrs. Halstead I would n't say anything to 
Martha about it. I 've lost five dollars, and I 
can't help thinking she took it." 

"Who? Mrs. Halstead?" 

"Mercy, no ! Martha." 

"Never ! I don't believe it !" 

"Well, did n't you. notice that new five-dollar 
bill she paid for the ice-cream with ?" 


"It was exactly like mine. You see, I had a 
new, crisp bill that Father gave me to spend 
while I was here. And when we went to town 
yesterday, I thought I would n't take it for fear 
I 'd lose it. And Martha, or somebody, must 
have taken it, for when I got home it was gone." 

"I don't believe Martha took it." 

"Who else could have done it? Mrs. Halstead 
says she knows her servants did n't take it. 
She 's had them for years, and they 're perfectly 
honest. And you know how queerly Martha acted 
while she was paying for the ice-cream. She 
does n't have much money, does she?" 

"No," said Dorothy, reluctantly. 

"Then how would she happen to have a new 
five-dollar bill just like mine, all of a sudden? 
And why would she act so embarrassed and queer 
about treating us to ice-cream ?" 

"Martha loves to treat," said Dorothy, a little 

lamely. "But I 'm sure she never took it," she 
added doggedly. "I 'm going to ask her." 

"No, you must n't. Mrs. Halstead said she 'd 
make up the loss to me", but we must not speak to 
Martha about it. Of course I won't take five 
dollars from Mrs. Halstead, but I promised I 
would n't tell Martha that she took it." 

"You were very 'uppish' to her, though !" 

"Well, who would n't be ? That bill was on the 
table in my bedroom, and Martha was in the 
room after I was. And when I came home, it 
was gone." 

"You were very careless to leave it on the 

"No, I was n't. I did n't want to take it with 
me, so I stuck it behind a picture that stands on 
the table. Nobody would have seen it, but 
Martha knew it was there ; she was in the room 
when I put it there." 

"Maybe it blew off the table." 

"It might have, but I 've looked all over the 
room everywhere." 

Dorothy sat silent. She had n't wanted Martha 
to come, but Betty had coaxed her into it, and 
this was the result. 

"Well," she said at last, "I 'm going to tell 
Betty about it, anyway. I know she '11 think as 
I do, that Martha could n't have done such a 

"No, don't tell Betty." 

"Yes, you will tell Betty, too !" said a voice, 
and looking up, the two girls saw Betty looking 
at them. The boat had drifted near shore, and 
Betty beckoned to them to come in. 

"Now, you tell me what it 's all about," she 
said, as they landed. "I 'm not going to be kept 
out of it any longer." 

When Betty spoke like that, her comrades 
usually obeyed her. 

Half scared at Betty's frowning face, Maude 
told her story. 

"What foolishness!" said Betty, as she fin- 
ished. "Martha could no more take a penny that 
did n't belong to her than I could !" 

"Then what made her act so flustered when 
she invited us to have ice-cream and when she 
paid for it?" demanded Maude. 

"I don't know," said Betty. 

"And where would she get a new five-dollar 
bill all of a sudden?" 

"I don't know," said Betty. 

"And where is my bill ?" wound up Maude, 
triumphantly, and again Betty was forced to 
reply, "I don't know. 

"But all the same," she went on, "Martha 
did n't take it ! And I il prove it somehow !" 

"You can't prove it unless you find my bill." 




"Then I '11 find your bill !" 

"You can't; I 've hunted everywhere for it." 

"Well, I will find it, and I '11 make you take 
back all you 've said about Martha." 

"I 'm sure I 'd be glad to," said Maude, staring 
at Betty's angry face; "I 've no wish to make 
her seem dishonest if she is n't." 

"I '11 clear this matter up !" exclaimed Betty, 
"and then you '11 feel sorry for what you 've 
said. And first I '11 go and tell Martha, and let 
her speak for herself." 

"No, you must n't do that ! Mrs. Halstead 
forbade us to mention it to Martha." 

"All right; then I '11 take Martha and go 
straight to Mrs. Halstead and let her tell her." 

"But you can't now, for Mrs. Halstead is 
superintending the May-pole. The carpenters are 
putting it up, and she asked us to keep away." 
■ "Well, I 've got to do something ! I can't . 
rest till Martha is cleared. Poor Martha ! I 
don't see how anybody could think such a thing 
of her !" 

Betty put her arm through Dorothy's, and they 
went on ahead, leaving Maude to follow alone. 

"Betty," said Dorothy, "we know Martha never 
has spending-money. And for that to be a new 
bill that she had yesterday does look queer. And 
she did act awfully funny about it all." 

"I know it, Dorothy," said Betty, in a tone, of 
despair ; "I think it looks awfully queer. But I 
would n't own up to Maude that I thought so. 
And, even if it does look queer, I won't believe 
Martha took Maude's money unless she tells me 
so herself— so there, now!" 

Betty had unconsciously raised her voice in her 
indignation, and as they turned a corner of the 
path, they came upon the other girls, sitting on 
a settee, waiting for them. 

"What are you saying, Betty?" asked Martha, 
her face perfectly white. 

There was no blushing embarrassment now; 
Martha looked horrified, and even incredulous, 
but she was calm and self-possessed. Betty quite 
forgot what Maude had said of Mrs. Halstead's 
orders, and spoke right out to Martha. 

"Martha," she said, "did you see Maude take 
some money out of her purse and lay it on her 
table yesterday?" 

"Yes, I did," said Martha. 

"Did you take it from the table— to— to put it 
in a safer place— or anything?" 

"No, of course I did n't! Why should I?" 

"Well, it was n't a very safe place," began 

"I should say it was n't !" exclaimed Maude. 

"Well, I did n't touch it!" said Martha. "What 
are you talking about, Betty?" 

"Then where did you get that new five-dollar 
bill you spent yesterday?" burst out Maude, un- 
able to control her tongue. 

Martha looked at her. 

"Do you mean to say that you 've been think- 
ing that was your money?" she said, in a low, 
scared sort of voice. 

"Yes, I do!" declared Maude. 

"Oh, oh! I did n't, I did n't! Betty, Betty, 
what shall I do !" and Martha burst into a fit of 
crying which nothing could stop. 

"Now, you see," said Betty, as she caressed 
her weeping friend. "Please all leave her to me." 

The others went away a little shamefacedly, 
while Betty remained with Martha. She waited 
until the first bursts of sobs were over, and then 
she said : 

"Now, Martha, brace up. I know and you 
know you did n't take her old bill, but we 've got 
to prove it." 

"How can we prove it?" asked Martha, be- 
tween her sobs, as she dabbed her eyes with her 
handkerchief. "Oh, Betty, I wish I had n't 
come !" 

"So shall I, if you act like this. Cheer up, I 
tell you, and help me, and we '11 fix this matter 
right yet." 

"How brave you are !" said Martha, looking 
up at Betty's determine^ face. 

"Somebody 's got to be, and you won't," said 
Betty, smiling. "Now tell me everything you 
know about Maude's money." 

"I don't know anything, except what she told 
you. I was sitting by the table when she stuck 
it behind the picture. I. thought it was a funny 
place to put it, but I did n't say so. I would n't 
have been so careless with my bill." 

"Where did you get your bill, Martha?" 

"Uncle Fred gave it to me on Christmas. He 
said to save it until I was sure I 'd thought of 
the thing I 'd like best to buy with it. And I was 
sure I 'd rather treat you all to ice-cream tha«n 
to buy anything for myself. Oh, Betty, I do 
love to be hospitable to people, and I never have 
a chance ! And when the chance really came, I 
was so glad and so happy about it, that it made 
me rather fidgety and embarrassed." 

"You dear thing!" cried Betty, kissing her. 
"And then to think of how they 've spoiled your 
little ice-cream party ! Well, go on ; then did you 
stay in Maude's room after she left it?" 

"Only a minute, to say good-by to little Bobby 
Halstead. He was playing around there, and 
he 's such a cunning little chap." 

"Bobby! I 've an idea! Now you stay right 
here till I come back ! Don't you move !" 

Betty flew into the house and went in search 




of four-year-old Bobby. She found him in his 
nursery, mounted upon his black hobby-horse. 


"Tell me, deary," she said, "when you were in 
Maude's room yesterday, did you see any money 
around ?" 

"Pennies?" asked Bobby. 

"No, not pennies. Paper money. Green 

"Ess, green paper, but not moneys. I cutted 
out a paper dolly ; see ! It 's not vewy good 'cause 
my sissiz was dull." 

Bobby dived down into a box, and produced a 
queer-shaped paper doll which was surely cut 
from a five-dollar bill ! 

Betty's eyes danced, but she only said quietly: 

"Where did you find the green paper, deary?" 
"In ve was'e-bastick," said the child; "I can 
always have what 's in ve 
was'e-basticks. Muvver said 
I could." 

"Yes, of course you can. 
That 's all right. But lend 
this dolly to Betty, won't 
you ? Just for a little while ?" 
"Ess, I will," and the child 
gave it up willingly enough. 
Back ran Betty with her 

"There !" she cried, trium- 
phantly waving the five-dol- 
lar doll above her head. 
"I told you Martha did n't 
know anything about Maude's 
money. It must have blown 
from the table into the 
waste-basket, and Bobby 
picked it out." 

"Oh — I do — remember !" 
said Maude, slowly, "the 
waste-basket was upset when 
I came home ! So I looked 
through all the scraps care- 
fully, but of course I did n't 
find it. I 'm awfully sorry, 
Martha,— truly I am,— more 
sorry than I can say ! I don't 
suppose you can ever forgive 

"Oh, yes, I can," said 
Martha, smiling through her 

"I 'm going to forgive 
you, too, Maude," said Betty ; 
"but it will take me a little 
while. I am afraid it will be 
half an hour before I can 
feel toward you as if you, had n't done this." 

"I don't wonder," said Maude, contritely ; "but, 
Betty, I did n't know Martha as you did, and it 
did look queer." 

"Yes, that 's so," conceded Betty. "I think 
I '11 get over it in a quarter of an hour." 

She did, and when it was time for the May 
party, the late unpleasantness was ignored by 
all, if not entirely forgotten. 

Mr. Halstead gave Maude a five-dollar bill to 
replace the one his son had spoiled, and he then 
also presented her with the green paper doll, as a 
reminder not to trust too much to appearances. 









'don't let me drop!" he croaked in fright, 
as they whirled him away at a dizzy height. 



Vol. XXXVII— 79. 





Author of " The Lost Column, 

Chapter XIII 


"What 's this?" cried Sir Michael. "Who, in 
the name of perfidy, are you?" 

But his only answer was the muzzle of Jerry 
Ahershaw's horse-pistol leveled at his head. 

He drew sharply back. His eyes went swiftly 
round the room, and finally rested on the Vi- 

The Lost Empire," etc. 

The Vicomte sprang down from the chair, laugh- 
ing and swinging the bell-rope in his hand. And 
the old Squire took him by the throat and hurled 
him to the ground. 

"Ye villain!" he thundered. 

But, as quick as thought, the Vicomte was again 
upon his feet, and slipped like an eel to the win- 

Sir Michael had his back to the wall. He had 


comte, who still stood with his back against the 

"Ring for help," he whispered. 

"I will," answered the Vicomte, so softly that 
neither of the men could possibly have heard. 

He passed swiftly round the room, taking a 
knife from his pocket as he went. Then he leaped 
quickly upon a chair; and before any one had 
time to realize what he was about, he had severed 
the bell-rope at the top. 

Sir Michael caught his breath like a man shot. 

drawn himself up to his full height and raised his 
fists to the level of his broad, deep chest. His 
face was red, and his eyes were flashing fire. He 
looked the very grandest figure of a man, stand- 
ing there defiantly at bay. His square jaw was 
closed like a vise; his powdered hair showed 
snow-white in the candle-light; and above his 
head was the picture of a gallant ancestor who 
had charged in the battle of Blenheim. 

He crossed the room in a single stride, bearing 
down upon the Vicomte like a bull. But the two 




men, with the black masks upon their faces, fell 
instantly upon him, and brought the old man to 
the ground. He struck the table in his fall, and 
struggled desperately. But the combined strength 
of Yates and Abershaw was too much for him, 
and in the end they had the fine old gentleman 
bound hand and foot. 

In the meantime Anthony stood facing the 
Vicomte, who stood at his post at the window. 
He had seen his father hurled upon the floor. 
He looked at his sister, who had got to her feet. 
She trembled visibly from head to foot. 

Without a second thought, the boy seized one 
of the great silver candlesticks that stood upon 
the table, and, dashing across the room, leveled a 
blow with all his might fair at the Frenchman's 
head. But the Vicomte was as quick as he. 
Parrying the blow with his left forearm, he sent 
the candlestick flying from Anthony's hand. It 
struck a silver bowl upon the sideboard, and 
brought it rattling to the ground. Then he bent 
the boy back- across the table, and thrust a pistol 
in his face. 

"Mercy!" cried Cicely. 

She moved swiftly toward the window. 

"Stop!" cried the Vicomte. "One step more, 
and I will shoot !" 

"I do not fear you," she uttered. 

She was very brave, now that she saw that they 
were lost. 

"Not you," said the Vicomte; "the boy. Raise 
your voice, or attempt to leave the room, and — " 
Again he lifted his weapon and pointed it toward 

She drew back. The man meant it: it was 
plain upon his face. 

Though the Vicomte firmly held him down, An- 
thony kicked out frantically. 

"Look to yourself, Cicely," he cried. "Get 
away and warn the men !" 

She dared not do it. She knew the man would 
slay or wound her brother. She was near the 
door, and she seized the handle and wrenched at 
it madly. But the lock was fast and strong. To 
burst open the heavy door was more than her 
strength could do. She fell back, from loss of 
breath and the terror of it all. She felt her 
heart beat violently; and so strangely free is 
thought that she then remembered the little robin, 
when the boy climbed up the tree. 

She turned at the sound of the Vicomte's laugh. 
Her brother was now in the strong arms of the 
two masked men ; and in a minute they had him 
bound to the back of a chair. Sir Michael lay 
full-length upon the floor. The Vicomte stood in 
the window, with his ruffians on either hand. 

"Mademoiselle," said he, with a bow, "I request 

you to come with me to France and to be my 

"To France!" she gasped. 

"That is my invitation. I have been a guest 
too long. I should like, in my turn, to play the 
part of host." 

"You cannot mean it!" she exclaimed; but so 
terrified was she that the Vicomte himself could 
not hear the words her low voice uttered. 

"Do you mean you refuse?" he asked. 

"Yes," she cried, finding her voice again. "A 
thousand, thousand times !" 

Then there followed a silence, during which 
they stood facing one another across the table. 
She stood defiant, though still very white. Her 
arms were rigid at her sides, and her fists were 
tightly clenched. As for the Vicomte, he was the 
same as ever, debonair, smiling, and altogether 
at his ease. 

"You are hardly in a position to refuse," said 
he. "I do not think that there is anything that I 
would not dare for the sake of my love for you." 

He was so quiet and gentle with it all that she 
fell, weeping, upon a chair. The Vicomte made a 
sign to his assistants; and they brought a thick, 
warm cloak and put it round her. And as they 
did it, the Vicomte stood over them, and vowed 
that if they hurt so much as a hair of her head, 
they would pay for it with their lives. 

After this the three led her through the garden 
to the field beyond. 

Here they came to a part of the fence where 
three horses were tethered by the reins. The Vi- 
comte gave the girl into the care of Jerry Aber- 
shaw, while he vaulted into the saddle. 

The young highwayman looked into her face 
in the bright light of the moon. Her head had 
fallen back. 

"Christopher!" he exclaimed; "she 's fainted!" 

"So much the better," said Yates. 

And then she was lifted up to the saddle, and 
lay across the pommel as if she did but sleep. 
And together they all moved off into the darkness 
of the night. 

Chapter XIV 


The first glad greeting ended, Roland Hood tore 
himself from his mother's arms and returned to 
the stable-yard. Then he shouted out for Thomas 
Timms ; and Thomas Timms came twinkling out 
of the harness-room in a jiffy. 

"Tom !" 

"Your honor?" 

"There are highwaymen on the road." 

And Thomas's ears dived behind his whiskers. 




"Was that where your honor got the horse?" 

"Yes," said Roland. "They had about four 
shots at me, and missed." 

And at the same psychological moment out 
came both of Thomas's ears. 

"Your honor does n't say so !" exclaimed Thomas. 

"But I do," laughed Roland. 

"Your honor does," said Thomas. 

"Are you for it, Tom ?" asked Roland, eagerly. 

"Every inch," was the answer. 

"All right! I '11 fetch you a brace of pistols 
from the house, and here 's a horse. Get on a 
coat, man, and let 's be off; they 're not three 
miles from here !" 

So saying, he entered the house, while Thomas 
twinkled back into the harness-room, and pulled 
on a coat and a pair of long boots. 

On returning to the stables, Roland found 
Thomas in the harness-room, reading a letter by 
the light of the stable lamp. He was scratching 
the round bald patch that was situated exactly 
in the center of his head, and his face was more 
oval than Roland had ever seen it before. 

"What have you got there ?" asked Roland. 

"A letter, your honor," was the answer. 

"Come on, man!" cried Roland, impatiently. 
"This is no time to stand reading letters. There 
is a job of work to be done." 

But Thomas only continued to scratch his head. 

"It came out of the wallet on the captured 
horse, your honor," said he ; "and bless me soul 
if I can make head or tail of it !" 

Roland took it from him. and by the light of 
the lamp he read the following words: 

The boat is to be at Judas Gap by ten o'clock. By then 
the tide will be nearly high. The wherry is to be under 
the Suffolk bank, near the wooden bridge at Manningtree, 
opposite the place where the Judas Creek meets the estu- 
ary. The man at the Gap is to keep hidden among the 
rushes in the creek until he sees a party coming from the 
direction of Jupe's Hill. In all weathers and at all costs, 
these orders are to be obeyed. 

L. D'O. 

Roland could hardly believe his eyes. Des 
Ormeaux ! He knew the man's writing well 
enough, and there it was, as plain as day. 

"To your horse, Tom, and quickly ! We must 
ride for Judas Gap !" 

"What 's in the air, your honor?" cried 
Thomas, as he lifted himself into the saddle. 

But "Who knows!" was his only answer. And 
Roland, loosening his sword in its scabbard, 
sprang into the saddle ; and, side by side, they 
thundered down the drive. 

They turned into the road like jockeys round 
a bend, and leaving the Wenham Hills behind 
them, came down the valley-side. They had all 

the light they wanted. As the reader knows, it 
was a starlit night ; and now the moon was up in 
the heavens, and it was all but bright as day. The 
cool night air filled their nostrils, and the trees 
went past like specters. 

They took the hill on the Flatford road, leav- 
ing the village of Brantham to the left, and came 
out upon the road that runs parallel to the river, 
above the marshes on the Suffolk side. As they 
passed Brantham Church, the clock struck ten, 
and Roland called back to Thomas, who had 
fallen some distance to the rear. 

"How can we cross the river, Tom?" 

"Up-stream at Flatford, your honor, or by the 
ford near Brantham Lock." 

Roland pulled up, and soon Timms was at his 

"There 's no time for either," said he. "Can 
we cross the marsh?" 

"On foot, your honor," answered Tom. "The 
horses would sink over their hocks." 

"Then on foot it is," said Roland, leaping to 
the ground. "At all events we '11 be able to dis- 
cover what they are about." 

Thomas followed suit and dismounted, and in 
a minute they had tied the horses to a stile and 
set off southward toward the river. 

They ran as fast as they could, and Thomas, 
with his short, fat legs, was soon left far behind. 
But Roland, jumping dikes, and sinking again 
and again to his knees in mud, struggled on, until 
he had gained the bank of the river Stour. 

Directly facing him was Judas Gap ; and he 
could hear the salt water falling over the green, 
warped, wooden gates, and splashing into the 
river below. 

The wind was from the south. From the di- 
rection of Jupe's Hill, on the Essex side, he 
heard the sound of the hoofs of horses on the 
road. He listened. They appeared to pull up 
some little distance beyond the farm which stands 
at the foot of the hill upon the skirting of the 
marsh. Suddenly all was still. 

A light burned up from across the valley, 
flickered an instant, and then remained stationary 
and very bright in the clearness of the night. 

After an interval it began to flicker again, at 
the same time growing bigger and brighter. It 
was plain to Roland that some one with a lighted 
lantern was coming toward the Gap. 

At last he was able to make out the figure of 
a man, who halted on the side of the pool, placed 
the lantern upon the ground, and then, putting 
his fingers to his mouth, whistled long and low. 
Almost immediately a boat shot out from the 
salt-water creek, where it had lain hidden among 
the reeds. 




"Is that you, Gipsy?" called the man from the 

"Aye," came the answer. "Jim Leake, ahoy?" 

"Aye ; and look out for yerself . There 's some 
'un acrost the river, in the reeds." 

"Don't believe it," came the answer, in the 
gruff voice of our old friend Gipsy Yates. "An' 
what if there is? He can't get acrost to us." 

"No; but he can put a bullet acrost, if he feels 
that way. So yer 'd best keep down, out o' the 
light o' the moon." 

The wind carried every word across the water 
to Roland's ear. He lay silent and expectant, 
listening to much splashing and grunting behind 
him that was drawing nearer and nearer. 

It was only poor Thomas trying his best to 
twinkle, in a two-foot depth of mud. 

Finally Thomas was at his side. 

"Lie down, Tom," he whispered. "They 've 
seen us !" 

"Where are they, your honor?" 

"On the other side of the river— in the salt- 
water creek. There 's one in the boat, and an- 
other on the bank ; and I think I hear some more 
coming across from the road. But we can't do 
much good here. Is there no way of getting 
across? Can't we wade?" 

"Wade!" exclaimed Tom. "It 's ten feet deep 
if it 's an inch ! We can only lie still and watch 
their game." 

Indeed, this seemed to be all that they could 
do. For, though they were within pistol-shot of 
each other, a deep swollen river lay between the 
parties. The Gap lies about midway between 
Flatford and Brantham locks; and if the boat 
made off down the creek, they would have to 
ride to the Manningtree Bridge, below Bran- 
tham, to reach the place where the salt-water 
creek joins the open estuary of the river Stour. 
Therefore, though they were but a few yards 
from Judas Gap, they might as well have been 
miles away, for all the good they could do. 

Suddenly a voice that Roland recognized at 
once— though it was many months since he had 
heard it — called out from across the marsh : 
"Hold up the light, you fool ! Parbleu ! But we 
are up to the knees in mud !" 

"Keep to the left, me lud," answered Yates, 
"an' come down along the dike." 

Then, upon the bank of Judas Pool, Roland 
Hood saw a sight that made his blood run cold. 
For, out of the darkness and the rustling reeds, 
there stepped into the light of the lantern two 
men, leading the drooping figure of a girl ; and 
the straight form of one was that of Louis des 
Ormeaux, with the moonlight dancing on the 
twisted hilt of his sword. 

The man addressed as Jim Leake ran the boat 
under the bank ; and the Vicomte and his com- 
panion carried the girl down, and placed her on 
the seat in the stern. 

Then, standing up in the boat, he wiped the 
perspiration from his brow. 

"Ma foi ! but what a slow and dreary ride 
it was !" said he. 

"And what a place !" threw in Jerry Abershaw, 
looking around him across the open, desolate 
marsh. "Christopher ! we could be caught here 
like rats in a trap ! Give me the highroad and a 
straight gallop !" 

"Aye," observed Mr. Yates. "I 'm with yer 
there, Mr. Abershaw. But, me lud," he added, 
turning to the Vicomte, "d' ye happen ter know 
we 're tracked?" 

"Comment?" rapped out the Vicomte. 

"There are men acrost the river, me lud— in 
the reeds." 

The Vicomte, who was still standing upright 
in the boat, sprang suddenly upon the shore. He 
took Jerry Abershaw and Yates aside, and gave 
his instructions calmly and in a low voice, little 
thinking that the wind carried every word across 
the stream. 

"Where can you cross the river?" he asked of 

"Flatford, me lud, up-stream," answered that 
gentleman ; "and Brantham, down." 

"Which is nearest?" asked the Vicomte. 

"Flatford, me lud." 

And thereupon my lord gave out his orders. 
"Abershaw, back to your horse," said he, "and 
across the river at Flatford ! Yates will go with 
you to show the way. I leave it to you to clear 
those men out of the reeds, whoever they are." 

"As good as done!" said the highwayman. 

And at that, without another word, the two 
men had disappeared in the darkness, while the 
Vicomte stepped back into the boat. 

Roland and Thomas heard the oars grating 
against the rowlocks, the stream of the river 
stirring the rushes and the weeds, and the water 
falling over the woodwork of the Gap. 

They saw Cicely seated in the stern of the 
boat upon the pool, the Vicomte at the bow, and 
Jim Leake rowing; and as they looked, she called 
on Roland by 'his name. 

"We must get back to the road, Tom ! We 
must gallop to the bridge. They are going down 
to the wherry at Manningtree Bridge." 

The young man was nearly distracted. 

"We '11 never do it in the time," answered poor 
Tom. "The road is miles around, and the creek 
goes straight to the sea. Oh, your honor, if we 
had only thought of this before !" 



Tom's voice was thick with anguish. 

"We can only try," was Roland's answer. "There 
is not a second to lose." 

Simultaneously, they sprang to their feet, com- 
ing out of the rushes into the full light of the 

"Halt !" cried the Vicomte from across the 
stream. "Qui va la? Who goes there?" 

But he received no word in answer. The two 
figures turned from the river-bank, and plunging 
into the mire, made off toward the higher ground 
on the Suffolk side. 

The Vicomte, springing to his feet, discharged 
his pistols across the river. A duck got up at 
the shots, and went off into the night. Then again 
they heard the wash of the boat and the loud 
creaking of the oars, as Jim Leake's strong arms 
sent her shivering down the creek. Also, from 
across the Essex marsh, they caught the sound 
of the drumming of hoofs, as two horses gal- 
loped past Jupe's Hill Farm on the road that 
leads to the Flatford ford. 

Roland was already some distance ahead, knee- 
deep in bog; he struggled onward to the road. 
The sweat poured from his forehead, and his 
hands were cut and bleeding from the sharp 
grasses on the marsh, by means of which, time 
and again, he pulled himself from the mud. 

At last, panting and plunging in the mire, he 
gained the hedge-row, and, without a moment's 
thought, broke through the brambles into the 
road, tearing his hands and face upon the thorns. 
Fortunately, he had come out upon a place not a 
hundred yards from where the horses were teth- 
ered at the stile; and in less than a minute he 
was once more across his horse. 

But, even as he mounted, there broke upon his 
ears the sound of the hoofs, coming hard up the 
road from the direction of Flatford and the Val- 
ley Farm. He was about to turn and fly, when 
he remembered Thomas Timms. 

He paused to listen, with his ears toward the 
marsh. He heard Tom, gasping and struggling 
in the bog. If he left him now, Timms would 
come suddenly upon the two men, fast drawing 
toward them on the road. And the Vicomte had 
ordered them to "clear them out." Turning his 
horse, Roland galloped to meet the men. 

In a mad, furious gallop, he and Jerry Aber- 
shaw met upon the road. It was as fine a sight 
as ever the moonlight saw. Both were superb 
riders ; both were mounted on thoroughbreds ; 
and they thundered nearer and nearer to one an- 
other, between the leafy hedge-rows, with the 
stars above their heads. 

They came upon each other at a headlong 
charge. Captain Hood raised his pistol, and 

pulled the trigger at a distance of thirty feet. 
The trigger snapped, but there was no discharge. 
Without a second thought, he cast it into the 
hedge, and drawing his second pistol, tried to fire 
again. But again it was a misfire. The charges 
had been dampened in the marsh. 

The horses' heads were now level. They passed 
like a pair of swallows on the wing; and Roland 
Hood caught Jerry Abershaw, the king of the 
road, by the throat, and hurled him into the dust. 

He came down, and lay in a crumpled heap, 
while his horse went madly on. 

But Roland neither drew rein nor looked back 
on what he had done. He met Yates at an angle 
of the road ; and as he came upon him, his sword 
flashed in the moonlight, and then, with one 
fierce thrust, carried the man clear across the 
cantle of his saddle. 

Then Roland Hood pulled up, so suddenly and 
violently that his horse all but fell. Leaning for- 
ward in his saddle, he turned, using his spurs, 
and once more set off again. 

He came upon the senseless form of Jerry 
Abershaw, huddled at the roadside. But he did 
not stop. He gave it naught but a glance as he 
flashed past in the moonshine. It was then in 
his power to have captured the famous highway- 
man ; but there was other and better work for 
him to do. 

He found Timms already mounted and on the 
road, and called to him loudly as he flew past 
him in the night: "To Brantham, Tom ! And ride 
for love and life !" 

And then he was gone again ; and there was 
only the dust, hanging above the roadway in the 
moonbeams that broke through the branches of 
the tall, sheltering trees. 

Chapter XV 


All peace-loving folks in Cattawade had long 
since gone to bed, and only an occasional light 
burned in an upper-story window, when Roland 
Hood went through the village like the wind, and 
came out upon the open, mud-girt valley, where 
the North Sea has broken an inlet into the Essex 
coast. His horse was dripping wet, and its chest 
and flanks were bespattered with white, soapy 
foam, that flew off in the wind, and caught the 
brambles at the roadside on the way. He had 
ridden from "The Tankard" to Bentley Hall, and 
thence to Judas Gap. He had covered the 
greater part of the distance at the gallop; and 
now there was this wild, frantic ride along the 
Bergholt road, through Cattawade, to the old 
wooden bridge across the Stour. 


6 3 , 




That once-famous bridge has long since been 
destroyed, and an iron railway bridge has now 
taken its place, but it was considered a master- 
piece of construction in its day. Daniel Defoe 
saw it, upon his journey to Ipswich, and it is 
mentioned in his "Tour through Great Britain." 
In the old days when Dedham was the weaving- 
center of East England, and the waterways were 
used more for traffic than they are to-day, the 
ponderous Flemish barges used to pass beneath 
it, and steal silently between the willows into 
the valley of the Stour. Here, when Brantham 
Lock was open, the incoming tide met the cur- 
rent of the river ; and the salt water, mingling 
with the fresh, lapped the rush-grown banks in 
little wavelets crested with creamy foam. 

On this fateful night, destined never to be for- 
gotten by at least one family on the banks of the 
sleepy Stour, and that lives even to-day by hear- 
say in the annals of the countryside, the old 
bridge spanned the river much as the eyes of the 
author of "Robinson Crusoe" had seen it, three- 
score years before. 

In the bright moonlight, its uneven profile 
threw a dark and curving shadow upon the flow- 
ing tide below. The rolling hillocks of Essex 
and Suffolk rose on either side against the star- 
light. At the mouth of the estuary, the lights of 
Harwich marked the boundary of the open sea. 
Eastward, the masthead lights of ships mingled 
with the stars ; but to the west, the hills closed 
in about the river, and the soft beauty of the 
valley was buried in the darkness of the night. 

Between the foot of the hills and the river, 
where the rushes waved in the cool night air, 
stretched the open marshland, cut and drained 
by a thousand dikes. It was that no-man's-land, 
where only smugglers ventured, and that only the 
duck and the moor-hen had a right to call their 

The tide was still on the flow, and the ripples 
danced in the moonshine, and gnawed and fretted 
at the standing trestles of the bridge. Not a 
hundred yards below lay a wherry, moored to the 
Suffolk bank. Her hanging sail, from time to 
time, beat in the breeze against the mast; and 
save for the lap of the water at her bow and 
under the wooden bridge, no other sound dis- 
turbed the silence of the night. 

The tall figure of a fisherman stood at the 
stern, looking out expectantly across the river, to- 
ward the place where the estuary is joined by the 
creek that comes from Judas Gap. 

For several minutes the man stood quite mo- 
tionless. Then he turned impatiently away, and 
going to the mast, picked up a lantern that 
burned upon the deck, and scanned the face of a 

great Flemish watch that he held in a broad and 
sunburnt hand. 

Suddenly, from across the water, there came 
the grating sound of oars ; and a few minutes 
afterward a boat shot out from the entrance to 
the creek, and began to cross to the Suffolk bank. 

At that, the man raised the lantern over his 
head, and began to rock it to and fro. 

"Jim Leake, ahoy !" he let out. 

And "Ahoy!" came from the direction of the 

A few more strokes of the oars, and Jim Leake 
was under the starboard quarter of the wherry. 
The Vicomte was in the bow, and Cicely, trem- 
bling, was seated in the stern. 

The wherry, by reason of the fact that she 
carried no cargo, stood high above the surface 
of the stream. 

The Vicomte, with a motion of his arm, or- 
dered the boatman to row up-stream ; and Jim 
Leake with a few strokes brought the boat along- 
side the bank, at a place where the gunwales 
were on a level with the ground, just clear of the 
archway of the bridge. 

Cicely was so faint and weak that she could 
scarcely walk. The Vicomte politely helped her 
to the shore. And, as he did so, a horse came 
thundering down the hill. 

The Vicomte looked up sharply, and carried 
his hand to the hilt of his sword. Upon the in- 
stant, he was all alertness ; his elbows were 
drawn back ; his dark eyes peered before him into 
the night. 

He may have thought foxa second that it was 
Yates, coming in for his 'wage ; for he laughed 
aloud and threw off the attitude of eagerness. 
He did not know that already Yates had been 
paid in other coin. 

At all events, the mad fury at which the rider 
approached puzzled him. He looked sharply 
around him, as if to see that Cicely was safe; 
and then, drawing his sword, he cautiously ad- 

He had not gone three paces on his way, when 
the horseman reached the end of the road, and 
came full into the moonlight on the bridge. The 
hoofs rang out on the wooden roadway, and 
sounded across the marshland, like the beating 
of a monster drum, as the rider drew rein so 
suddenly and violently that he threw his steed 
back upon its haunches. As quick as thought, 
he sprang from his saddle, and came down to the 
tow-path, where Louis des Ormeaux was waiting. 

The path was of newly laid gravel, and showed 
white in the moonlight. And against this back- 
ground the Vicomte — to his surprise and dismay- 
immediately recognized the figure of Roland Hood. 




"Ma foi !" said he, and quickly drew back a 
pace. Past a doubt, the man was as cunning as 
a fox, and retreated only to allow his rival to 
reach the bottom of the slope, in order that they 
might meet on level ground. 

Roland Hood's sword came from its scabbard, 
and he hurled himself upon the Vicomte with all 
the pent-up fury that had spurred him on his 
ride. So that it was all the other could do to keep 
him back. 

When the first savage onslaught had been beaten 
off, Louis des Ormeaux laughed— the old, false 
laugh that they all had known so well. But after 
a while he became silent, his features set; and 
there was no sound save the shuffling of feet in 
the mud and that of the constant ringing of steel. 

Roland held the offensive, pestering him like a 
ferret at a rat, thrust following thrust hot and 
fast upon the Frenchman's chest; while Cicely 
stood by with blanched cheeks and parted lips, 
and watched it all. Louis des Ormeaux's sword- 
arm rocked and swayed, as he turned his oppo- 
nent's thrusts aside ; and, though he did it all 
with a grace and agility that proved him a master 
in the art, his teeth began more and more to 
show, as, step by step, Roland drove him back 
toward the river-bank. 

"It is time this came to an end!" he cried, and 
lunged forward as he thrust. 

"Then end it," growled Roland, savagely — "if 
you can !" 

Once more the Vicomte laughed. 

"I will," said he. 

At that, he leaped backward, so suddenly that 
Roland, plunging forward, thrust into the air. 
And before he had time to recover himself, the 
Vicomte was upon him, seizing the advantage 
and pressing his adversary with a violence only 
equaled by his own. 

Surprised and angered at finding the young 
Englishman able to keep him off, he flung pru- 
dence to the winds, and his thrusts came so close 
upon each other that he must have loosed his 
grip upon his sword. Roland followed a parry 
by a quick and sudden turn of the wrist, that, 
had it failed, would have left his chest open to 

(To be con 

his foe. But evidently the Vicomte had never 
looked for it, for the action sent his sword shiv- 
ering from his hand. 

Roland rushed in upon him, with a cry that was 
half a sigh of relief and half a cheer. If the Vi- 
comte had stayed to attempt to recover his weapon, 
past a doubt, his adversary, whose blood was 
fully roused, would have run the villain through. 
And we are to imagine that the Vicomte was 
aware of it ; for this is one of the few recorded 
instances on which he is known to have taken 
deliberately to his heels. 

He sprang on board the wherry. He himself 
never gave the word, but the men, upon their 
own responsibility, did the thing that was the end 
of all his hopes, acting as quick as thought, and 
no doubt thinking that ignominious flight was the 
order of the day. Such fellows are easily panic- 
stricken ; and perhaps Roland's savage onslaught 
had given them for the moment a little of the 
taste of fear ; and this is the more likely since 
neither carried arms. Be that as it may, certain 
it is that the fisherman ran up the sail, while 
Jim Leake, quick as thought, loosed the wherry 
from her mooring. 

It was all done in an instant; and before the Vi- 
comte had time to stop them, or Roland could fol- 
low him, the boat was out upon the tide. 

She took the slightest list to leeward as the 
breeze caught the sail, and shot off from the 
bank, her bow cutting the water in a long 
feathery wave. 

Roland, the next moment, was at Cicely's side. 
The Vicomte from the deck saw them standing 
together in the moonlight on the shore ; and this 
was the greatest blow of all. 

The man, livid with rage, brought down his 
foot upon the deck, and the moonlight sparkled 
on the buckle of his shoe. 

"We shall meet again !" he cried, across the 
widening space between them. "And, if there 
be a Power above, you shall pay me back for 

And when next they met, the sky was red. 
But there was a Power above, who then, too, 
fought on the side of Right, as we shall see. 

tinned. ) 

Vol. XXXVIT.-80. 



"Please, Mother, tell us a story. Have him 
a wood-chopper boy this time. Please, Mother, 
quick, for Elizabeth is sleepy already. Oh, 
Mother, hurry!" 

So here is the story. 

Once upon a time there was a little boy who 
lived all alone with his parents in the heart of a 
deep wood. His father was a wood-chopper 
who worked hard in the forest all day, while 
the mother kept everything tidy at home and 
took care of Robin. Robin was an obliging, 
sunny-hearted little fellow who chopped the 
kindling as sturdily as his father chopped the 
dead trees and broken branches, and then he 
brought the water and turned the spit for his 

As there were no other children in the great 
forest, he made friends with the animals and 
learned to understand their talk. In the spring 
the mother robin, for whom he thought he was 
named, called him to see the blue eggs in her 
nest, and in the autumn the squirrels chattered 
with him and brought him nuts. But his four 
dearest friends were the Owl, who came to his 
window evenings and gave him wise counsel ; 
the Hare, who played hide-and-seek with him 
around the bushes ; the Eagle, who brought him 
strange pebbles and shells from the distant sea- 
shore ; and the Lion, who, for friendship's sake, 
had quite reformed his habits and his appetite, 
so that he lapped milk from Robin's bowl and 
simply adored breakfast foods. 

Suddenly all the happiness in the little cottage 
was turned to mourning, when the good wood- 
chopper was taken ill, and the mother was at her 
wits' end to take care of him and to provide bread 
and milk. Robin's heart burned within him to 
do something to help, but he could not swing an 
ax with his little hands. 

"Ah," he said that night to his friend the Owl, 
"if I were a great knight, perhaps I could ride 
to the city and win the Prize for Good Luck." 

"And what is the Prize for Good Luck?" 
asked the Owl, who knew everything in the 
world except that. 

Then Robin explained that the lovely princess, 
whose hair was like spun gold and whose eyes 
were like the blue forget-me-nots by the brook, 
had lost her precious amulet, given to her by her 
godmother, which kept her, as long as it lay on 
her neck, healthy and beautiful and happy. One 

day, when she was playing in the flower-garden, 
the little gold chain snapped and the amulet 
rolled away. Everybody in the palace had searched, 
the soldiers had been called out to help, and all 
the small boys had been organized into an amulet 
brigade, for what they cannot see is usually 
not worth seeing at all. But no one could find 
it, and in the meantime the princess grew pale, 
and, truth to tell, rather cross. Her hair dulled 


a little, and her eyes looked like forget-me-nots 
drowned in the brook. When the court philoso- 
pher reasoned the matter out and discovered 
that the amulet had been carried far away, per- 
haps outside the kingdom, the king offered the 
Prize for Good Luck for its return. 

"Now, if I could win the Prize for Good 
Luck," said Robin, "we should have bread and 




milk all the time, and Mother need not work so 

Then the Owl in her wisdom called a council 
of Robin's best friends, and asked them what 
they w.ere going to do about it. They waited 
respectfully for her advice ; and this was her 
wonderful plan : 

"Robin could win the Prize for Good Luck," 
declared the Owl, "if only he were wise and 
swift and clear-sighted and strong enough. Now 
I will lend him my wisdom, the Hare shall lend 
his swiftness, the Eagle shall . 

lend his eyesight, and the 
Lion shall lend his strength." 
And thus it was agreed. 

Then the Owl went back 
to little Robin's window and 
explained the plan. 

"You must remember," she 
said warningly, "time is 
precious. It is almost morn- 
ing now. I cannot long spare 
my wisdom, for who would 
guide the feathered folk? If 
the Hare cannot run, how 
can he escape the fox? If 
the Eagle cannot see, he will 
dash himself into the cliff if 
he flies, and he will starve to 
death if he sits still. If the 
Lion's strength is gone, the 
wolves will be the first to 
know it. Return, then, with- 
out delay. At the stroke of 
nine o'clock to-morrow night, 
we shall await you here. Now 
go quickly, for rather would 
I die than live like the 
feather-brained blue jay." 

Immediately Robin felt 
himself so strong and so 
brave that he hesitated not a 
minute. Swift as a hare he 
hastened to the palace, and 
at daybreak he blew the 
mighty horn that announced 
the coming of one who would 
seek for the amulet. The 
king groaned when he saw 
him, sure that it would be a vain quest for such a 
little fellow. The truth was that the court philoso- 
pher feared the amulet had been stolen by the 
Ogre of Ogre Castle, but no one dared to men- 
tion the fact, much less to ask the Ogre to return 
it. The princess, however, immediately sat up 
and took notice, charmed by the brave light in 
Robin's eyes and his merry smile. 

Robin asked to be taken up into the highest 
tower of the palace, and there, looking leagues 
and leagues away to Ogre Castle, he saw with 
his Eagle sight the amulet, glowing like sun- 
light imprisoned in a ruby. 

The Ogre was turning it over and over in 
his hand, muttering to himself, in the stupid 
way ogres always have : "It must be a nut, for 
I can see something good inside." Robin could 
not hear him, but he was sure, by the help of 
the Owl's wisdom, that it was the amulet. 



In a thrice — that means while you count three 
— Robin was speeding away with the Hare's swift- 
ness toward Ogre Castle, and in a few minutes 
he was demanding the amulet from the Ogre. 

Now usually the Ogre was not at all a dis- 
agreeable fellow, and the Owl's wisdom would 
have easily sufficed to enable Robin to secure the 
amulet without trouble, but he had just tried 




to crack the amulet with his teeth. It broke off 
the very best tooth he had in his head, and his 
poor jaws ached so that he was in a very bad 
temper. He turned fiercely, and for a few min- 
utes Robin needed all the strength the Lion had 
given him. 

After all, the Ogre was one of the pneumatic- 
tire, hot-water-bag kinu of giants, who flat out 


if you stick a pin into them and lie perfectly 
limp until they are bandaged up and set going 
once more. That is really a secret, but Robin 
knew it by the help of the Owl's wisdom, and 
he was not the least little bit afraid. 

So Robin managed to get the amulet away 
without too much difficulty, and the Hare's 
swiftness quickly took him back to the palace. 
When the princess, who was watching from the 

tower window, saw the rosy light of the amulet 
in the distance, pinkness came back to her 
cheeks, and her eyes shone like stars, and she 
waved her lily hand to Robin in perfect happi- 

Ah, such a merrymaking as they planned for 
that evening! Robin was to receive the Prize 
for Good Luck, so much gold coin that it would 
take three carts and six mules to carry it back 
to the cottage. The king counted out money 
all the afternoon, and the queen put up tarts 
and jars of honey for Robin to take to his 
mother, and fhe princess gave him her photo- 

Now comes the sad part. It had taken so 
much time to reach the palace, to explain to the 
king, to ascend the tower and find the amulet, 
to conquer the Ogre of Ogre Castle, and to re- 
turn to the palace, that it was almost night 
before Robin realized it. When the money had 
been counted out and the 
tarts wrapped in paraffin pa- 
per and the pots of honey 
packed in excelsior, it was 
seven o'clock. 

Now the party was to be- 
gin at nine, for the princess 
had to have her white satin 
frock sent home from the 
dressmaker, and her hair had 
to be curled. The Punch and 
Judy was to come at ten, and 
the ice-cream was to be 
served at eleven, for in pal- 
aces people keep terribly late 
hours, not at all good for 
them. Just as Robin had 
dressed himself in a beauti- 
ful blue velvet suit, thinking 
how fine it was that he 
should open the dance with 
the princess and how lucky 
it was that he had the 
strength of a lion, so that he 
could dance at all after his 
busy day, he suddenly re- 
membered his promise to the 

It was such a shock that, in spite of the Lion's 
strength, he nearly fainted. Then he went 
quickly to the king and told him that he must 
go away at once. The king was very angry 
and bade him have done with such nonsense. 

"Faith, you must stay," he said crossly. 
"There would be no living with the princess if 
her party is spoiled. Besides, you will lose the 
Prize for Good Luck, for the people have been 




promised that they shall see it presented to some- 
body to-night and we must not disappoint them." 


Poor Robin's heart was heavy. How could he 
lose all that he had gained and go away as poor 
as when he came? That was n't all nor half of 
all. To lose the money would be bad, but he 
had much more to lose than that. For one day 
he had enjoyed the fun of being stronger and 
wiser and swifter and keener-sighted than any- 
body else. Is n't that better than money and all 
the prizes for good luck? Yes, indeed, his heart 
answered over and over again. How could he 
go back and give up the wisdom and the swift- 
ness and the clear sight and the strength, even 
if he could give up the money? 

"I know now," he thought bitterly, "how the 
Owl felt when she said she would not be a feather- 
brain like the blue jay. And it is much more 
important for a boy to be strong than for a com- 
mon old lion, who is pretty old anyway. And 
there are lots of hares in the forest and eagles 
on the mountain." 

Then Robin slowly climbed the stairs to the 
tower, for he thought he would see what the 
Owl and the Hare and the Eagle and the Lion 
were doing in the forest. He looked over to 
the cottage, leagues and leagues away. There, 
under a big oak, lay the Owl, her feathers all 

a-flutter. She had had no more sense than to 
go out in the brilliant sunshine, and something 
had gone wrong inside her head. The saucy 
blue jay stood back and mocked her. Robin's 
heart gave one little throb of pity, but he was 
wise enough to see the value of wisdom, and he 
hardened himself. "I don't believe she has sense 
enough to know that anything is wrong," he 
said to himself. 

Then he looked for the Hare. "Oh, he 's all 
right," said Robin, gladly. But just then he 
saw a dark shape, only about a mile away, fol- 
lowing the Hare's track. 

Robin's heart gave two throbs of pity. "Poor 
old Hare!" he said. "I have had lots of fun 
with him." 

Then he looked for the Eagle, and his heart 
beat hard and fast when he saw him sitting 
alone on the dead branch of a tree, one wing 
hanging bruised, perhaps broken, and his sight- 
less eyes turned toward the tower, waiting, wait- 
ing. Blind ! 

Robin looked quickly for the Lion. For a 
time he could not find him, for tears came in his 
eyes as he thought of the Eagle. Then he saw 
the poor creature, panting from thirst, trying 
to drag himself to the river. He was almost 
there when his last bit of strength seemed to 


fail, and he lay still, with the water only a few 
yards away. 

Then Robin's heart leaped and bounded with 
pity, and with pure gladness, too, that he was 




not yet too late to 
save his friends 
from the conse- 
quences of their 
own generosity. The 
last rays of sunset 
struck the tower as 
Robin, forgetting 
all about his blue 
velvet clothes and 
the princess and 
the Prize for Good 
Luck, ran and raced, 
uphill and down, 
through brambles 
and briers, over 
bogs and hummocks, 
leaving bits of 
lace caught on the 
bushes, swifter than 
ever he hastened to 
the Ogre of Ogre Cas- 
tle or to the lovely prin- 
cess with the amulet. 
He was there — 
oh, yes, he was 
there long before 
nine o'clock. The 
Owl received back 
her wisdom, and I can 
tell you that she soon sent the saucy blue jay 
packing. The Hare had his swiftness, and the 




fox was left so far behind that he was soon glad 
to limp back home and eat the plain supper that 
Mrs. Fox had prepared, for him. The poor blind 
Eagle opened his eyes, and saw the moon and the 
stars, and, better than moon and stars, the loving 
face of his comrade, Robin. The Lion drank his 
fill, and said that now he would like some break- 
fast food, please. So the story ended happily 
after all. 

Oh, yes, I forgot about the Prize for Good 
Luck, did n't I ? When the king told the prin- 
cess that Robin was foolish enough to give back 
the wisdom and the swiftness and the clear sight 
and the strength that had won the prize for him, 
and that without them he was only a very com- 
mon little boy, not good enough for a princess 
to dance with, she stamped her foot and called 
for the godmother who gave her the amulet in 
the first place. 

Then the princess's godmother said that the 
princess for once was quite, quite right — that 
Robin must have the three cartloads of gold 
coin drawn by six mules, and the tarts and 
honey for his mother, and whenever the prin- 
cess gave another party she must ask him to 
open the dance with her, blue velvet suit or no 
blue velvet suit— "because," said the godmother, 
"there is one thing better than wisdom or swift- 
ness or clear sight or strength, and that is a 
loving heart." 

But Elizabeth had gone to sleep. 


Rippling and gurgling and giggling along, 
The brooklets are singing their little spring song; 
Laughing and lively and gay as can be, 
They are skipping right merrily down to the sea. 

' 1 1 






"Orr, Mr. Black wants you." 

Jack Orr, passing through the business depart- 
ment of the Hammerton telegraph office, promptly 
turned aside and entered the manager's room. 

"Good morning, Jack. Sit down. 

"My boy," began the manager, "can you keep a 

"Why, yes, sir," responded Jack, wondering. 

"Very well. But I must explain first. I sup- 
pose you did not know it— we kept it quiet— but 
the reason Hansen, the janitor, was discharged a 
month ago was that he was found taking money 
from the safe here, which he had in some way 
learned to open. Well, after he left I changed the 
combination, and thought the trouble was at an 

"Last Tuesday morning the cash was again a 
little short. At the time I simply thought an 
error had been made in counting it the night be- 
fore. But this morning a second ten-dollar bill 
is missing, and the cash-box shows unmistakable 
signs of having been tampered with. 

"Now, Johnson, the counter clerk, to whom I 
had confided the new combination (for it is cus- 
tomary, you know, that two shall be able to open 
a safe, as a precaution against the combination 
being forgotten) — Johnson is entirely above sus- 
picion. Still, to make doubly sure, I am going to 
change the combination once more ; and as I have 
known you- for so long, I have chosen you to 
share the secret. 

"That is, of course," concluded the manager, 
"if you have no objection." 

"Certainly not. I am sure I appreciate the con- 
fidence, Mr. Black," said Jack, quickly. 

"Very well, then. The combination is, 'Right 
twenty, twice ; back nine ; right ten.' Can you 
remember that? For you must not write it down, 
you know." 

Jack repeated the numbers several times, and 
again thanking the manager for the confidence, 
continued up-stairs to the operating-room. 

Two mornings later Jack was again called into 
Mr. Black's office. For a moment, while Jack 
wondered, the manager eyed him strangely, then 
asked, "What was that combination, Jack?" 

"Right ninety— no, right thirty— why, I believe 
I have forgotten it, sir," declared Jack, in con- 

"Perhaps you have forgotten this too, then?" 
As he spoke the manager took from his desk a 

small note-book. "I found it on the floor in front 
of the safe this morning." 

"It is mine, sir. I must have dropped it last 
night. I worked extra until after midnight, sir," 
explained Jack, "and on the way out I chased a 
mouse in here from the stairway, and when it ran 
under the safe I dropped to my knees to find it. 
The book must have fallen from my pocket. But 


is wrong, sir: 

"The cash-box is not in the safe this morning." 

Jack started back, the color fading from his 
cheeks as the significance of it all came -to him. 

"And now you pretend to have the combination 
entirely wrong," went on the manager. 

Jack found his voice. "Mr. Black, you are mis- 
taken ! You are mistaken ! I never could do 
such a thing! Never!" 

"I should prefer proof," Mr. Black said coldly. 

Jack caught at the idea. "Would you let me 
try to prove it, sir? Will you give me a week in 
which to try to clear myself?" 

"Well, I did n't mean it that way. But, all 
right— a week. And if things do not look dif- 
ferent by that time, and you still claim ignorance, 
you will have to go. That 's all there is to it." 

"Thank you, sir." 

At the door Jack turned back. "Mr. Black, are 
you positive you returned the box to the safe?" 

"Positive. It is the last thing I do before going 

During spare moments on his wire that morn- 
ing Jack debated the mystery from every side. 
Finally he had boiled it down to two conflicting 
facts : 

First, that the box was placed in the safe the 
night before, and in the morning was gone; and 
that, besides the manager, he was the only one 
who could have opened the safe and taken it. 

Second, that he knew his own innocence. 

The only alternative, then, was that Mr. Black 
had been mistaken. He had not returned the box 
to the safe. 

Grasping at this possibility, Jack argued on. 
How could the manager have been mistaken? 
Had he overlooked the box, say, because of its 
being covered by something? 

"Why, it may be there yet !" exclaimed Jack, 
hopefully. And a few minutes later, relieved 
from his wire for lunch, he hurriedly descended 
again to the manager's office. 





"Mr. Black, may I look around here a bit?" he 

"Look around ? What for ?" 

"To see if I cannot find something to help solve 
this mystery," said Jack, not wishing directly to 
suggest that the manager had overlooked the box. 

"So you keep to it that you know nothing, eh? 
Well, go ahead," said Mr. Black, shortly, turning 
back to his desk. 

But Jack's hope was quickly shattered. Neither 
on the desk, nor a table beside the safe, was there 
anything which could have concealed the box. 

Stooping, he glanced under the table. Some- 
thing white, a newspaper, leaning against the 
wall, caught his eye. With a nutter of hope he* 
reached beneath and threw it aside. There was 
nothing behind it. 

Disappointedly he caught it up and tossed it 
into the. waste-basket. 

But suddenly, on a thought, Jack recovered the 
paper and opened it. On discovering it was the 
"Bulletin," a paper he knew Mr. Black seldom 
read, the idea took definite shape. And — yes, it 
was of yesterday's date ! 

"Mr. Black," exclaimed Jack, "this is not your 
paper, is it?" 

Somewhat impatiently the manager glanced up. 
"The 'Bulletin' ? No." 

"Were you reading it yesterday, sir?" 

"Well, I don't see what you are driving at — 
but, no. It was probably left here by Smith, one 
of the express clerks next door. He was in yes- 
terday on some telegraph money-order business. 
Yes, he did have it in his hand, now I recol- 
lect. But why?" 

At the mention of Smith's name Jack started, 
and there immediately came to him a remem- 
brance of having a few days previously seen 
Smith on a street corner in earnest conversation 
with Hansen, the discharged janitor. 

In suppressed excitement he asked, "When was 
Smith here, Mr. Black?" 

The manager smiled sardonically and turned 
back to his work. "No, you can't put it on 
Smith," he said shortly. "It was after he went 
out that I returned the box to the safe. But— if 
it 's any good to you— he was in here from about 
five-thirty to ten minutes to six, and was talking 
with one of the boys in the outer office when I 

"And, Mr. Black, were you outside during the 
time Smith was in here?" 

"No, I— yes, I was, too. About a quarter to 
six I was over at the speaking-tube for a minute. 

"But enough of this nonsense," added the man- 
ager, sharply. "The box was in the safe when I 
closed it. Don't bother me any further." 

Despite this declaration, Jack turned away with 
secret satisfaction. 

Just outside the office door he made a discovery 
which further strengthened the theory he had 
formed. It was a small coal-cinder, and an ash- 
stain in the shape of a heel, overlooked by a care- 
less sweeper. 

They could only have been left by a foot that 
came from the cellar ! 

Promptly Jack turned to the cellar door, and 
made his way down into the big basement. 

Going directly to one of the rear windows, he 
carefully examined it. The cobwebs and the dust 
on the sill had not been disturbed for months. 

He turned to the second. Instantly he uttered 
a shrill whistle of delight. Its cobwebs had been 
torn and swept aside, and the ledge brushed 
almost clean; and evidently but a short time be- 
fore, for the cleared space showed little of the 
dust which filtered through the floor above. 

"Fine !" exclaimed Jack. "Now I—" He 
paused. The window was latched on the inside ! 

For several minutes Jack stood, disappointed 
and mystified. Then, examining the latch-staple 
closely, he laughed, and grasping it with his fin- 
gers, easily pulled it out. It had been forced from 
the outside, then replaced. 

But its being replaced showed that the intruder 
had not made his escape that way. 

At once Jack began an examination of the end 
of the cellar toward the express office. And the 
exit was soon disclosed. 

The dividing wall was of boarding, and at the 
outer end, to make easy the examination of the 
gas-meters of the two companies, was a narrow 
door, ordinarily secured on the telegraph com- 
pany's side by a strong bolt. The bolt was drawn, 
and the door swung easily to Jack's touch. 

On the other side of the partition all was dark- 
ness, however, and Jack returned to the window. 
As he approached it, something on the floor be- 
neath caught his eye. It was a lead-pencil. He 
caught it up, and with a cry of triumph discov- 
ered it bore the initials and miniature crest of 
the express company. And, more, a peculiar long- 
pointed sharpening promised the possibility of 
fixing its actual owner. 

Filled with elation, and confident that it was 
now only a matter of time when he should clear 
himself, Jack hastened up-stairs, determined to 
pursue his investigations next door, where he 
knew several of the younger clerks. 

"Hello, Danny !" he said, entering the express 
office, and addressing a sandy-haired boy of his 
own age. "Say, who in here sharpens pencils 
like this?" 

"Hello! That? Oh, I 'd know that whittle 




anywhere. We call 'em daggers— Smith's dag- 
gers. Where did you get it?" 

"Smith! Who wants Smith?" 

Jack turned with a start. It was the clerk him- 

Instantly Jack extended the pencil. "Is this 
yours, Mr. Smith?" he asked, and held his breath. 

that cash-box. Now look here, why not confess 
this wretched business before it 's too late, and—" 

The clerk spun about. "Cash-box? Business? 
What do you refer to ?" 

"Mr. Smith, it was you took our cash-box last 

Though again pale, the clerk faltered only an 


"Yes, it is. I must have—" Suddenly a look 
of terror came into the clerk's face. But quickly 
he recovered himself, and seizing the pencil, pro- 
ceeded hurriedly to his desk. 

Jack was jubilant. Nothing could have been 
more convincing of the clerk's guilt. But follow- 
ing this feeling came a sense of pity for the un- 
fortunate man; and after a debate with himself, 
Jack followed him. 

Placing a hand on the clerk's shoulder, he said, 
in a low voice : "Mr. Smith, I 've found out about 
Vol. XXXVII.-81. 

instant. "What nonsense is this?" he demanded 
angrily. "This is the first I have heard of your 
cash-box! What do you mean by — " 

"Well, then, I '11 tell you just how you did it," 
said Jack, determinedly. "While you were in 
Mr. Black's office yesterday afternoon he stepped 
out and left you alone for a moment. The cash- 
box was on the table. You immediately saw the 
opportunity, and threw over the box a newspaper 
you had in your hand. As you hoped, not seeing 
the box, Mr. Black forgot it, and at six o'clock 




left without returning it to the safe (you had re- 
mained about the office, watching him). Then, 
after midnight you came down, forced your way 
into our building, and secured it. 

"I 'm sorry, but is n't that so? And you got 
the idea of doing something of the kind from 
Hansen, did n't you?" 

The clerk laughed dryly. "The great Mr. Sher- 
lock Holmes, Junior," he remarked sarcastically. 
"Nonsense ! Run away and don't bother me with 
your silly detective theories," and he turned back 
to his seat. Jack stood baffled and surprised. 

"But look here, Orr !" As Smith again spun 
about, a hard look came into his face. "How do 
you come to know so much about this business 
yourself? Eh?" 

Jack uttered an exclamation, and a sudden fear 
of the clerk came over him. Was Smith thinking 
of trying to place the blame upon him? 

However, further discussion was clearly use- 
less, and he turned away. 

The following morning brought quick proof 
that Jack's fears were but too well founded. As 
he entered the telegraph office, Mr. Black called 
him and handed him a note. "Now what have 
you to say?" he demanded solemnly. 

In a lead-pencil scrawl Jack read: 

Mr. Black : Your yung Operatore Orr can tel sumthin 
about thet cash-box wats stole he was showin the key of 
the box to sumone yesterday an i saw him meby you wil 
find the key in his offis cote. 


"It is the very key," said the manager, produc- 
ing a small key on a ring. "I recall having left 
it in the lock." 

For some moments Jack stood pale and speech- 
less. Despite the disguised writing and poor 
spelling, the letter was from Smith, he had 
scarcely a doubt. But how was he to prove it? 
Truly matters were beginning to look serious for 

Quickly, however, Jack's natural spirit of fight- 
to-the-end returned to him, and handing the letter 
back, he said, respectfully but determinedly: "Mr. 
Black, I still hold you to your promise to give me 
a week in which to prove my innocence. And 
I '11 prove, too, sir, that this key was placed in 
my pocket by some one else— probably by the one 
who really took the box. I believe I know who it 
was, but I '11 prove it first." 

Reluctantly the manager consented, for he now 
firmly believed, at least, in Jack's complicity; and 
leaving him, Jack sought the operating-room, to 
spend every spare moment in turning the matter 
over in his mind. 

What next could he do? If only he could find 
the box. What would Smith probably have done 

with it ? For it seemed unlikely that he would have 
taken it away with him. Might he not, after re- 
moving the money, have hidden it in the cellar? 
Jack determined to search there ; and accordingly, 
at noon, hastening through his lunch, he de- 
scended and began a systematic hunt amid the 
odds and ends filling the basement. 

The first noon hour's search brought no result. 
The second day, returning to the task somewhat 
dispiritedly, Jack began overhauling a pile of old 
crosspieces. There was a squeak, and a rat shot 

In a moment Jack was in hot pursuit with a 
stick. The rat ran toward the furnace and dis- 
appeared. At the spot, an instant after, Jack 
found a hole in the brick foundation, and thrust 
the stick into it. The stick caught, he pulled, and 
suddenly several bricks fell out. 

Dropping to his knees, Jack peered into the 
opening. A sharp cry broke from him, and 
thrusting in a hand, he drew something forth. 

It was the lost box ! 

Uttering a shout of triumph, Jack leaped to his 
feet and started on a run for the stair. But sud- 
denly he halted. After all, was he absolutely 
sure it was Smith who had placed it there? 
Would the producing of the box prove it? 

The question, which had not before occurred 
to Jack, startled him. 

As he stood thinking, half consciously he tried 
the cover of the box. To his surprise, it gave. 

Quickly he opened it— and the box almost fell 
from his hands. It still contained the money ! 
And apparently untouched ! 

But in a moment Jack thought he understood. 
Smith, or whoever it was, had left it as a clever 
means of saving himself from the worst, in case 
of being found out, intending to return for it if 
the excitement blew over. 

Then why not wait and catch them at it? 
Good ! But how? 

As he pondered the problem, Jack thought of 
Alex Ward. "I wonder what he would do?" he 
asked himself. "He would be sure to think up 
some clever — " 

"I know ! That 's it ! That 's it ! Great ! Alex 
himself could n't do better ! 

"I '11 get down and do it early in the morning. 
And now I '11 stick this back in the hole and fix 
up the bricks again." 

Seven o'clock the following morning found 
Jack carrying out his plan. First carrying down 
to the cellar from the battery-room two gravity- 
jars, he placed them in a dark corner behind the 
furnace. Next, finding an old lightning-arrester, 
he opened up the hiding-place, and placed the ar- 
rester beneath the cash-box, in such a manner 




that, on the box being moved, the arrester arm 
would be released, fly back, and make a contact. 
Then, having carefully closed the opening, he se- 
cured some fine insulated wire, and proceeded to 
make up his circuit : from the arrester, out be- 
neath the bricks, around the furnace, to the bat- 


tery; up the wall, and through the flooring by the 
steam-pipes into the business office; and, running 
up-stairs and procuring a step-ladder, on up the office 
wall, through the next floor, into the operating-room. 

And there a few minutes later he had connected 
the wires to a call-bell on a ledge immediately 
behind the table at which he worked. And the 
alarm was complete ! 

Although Jack knew that the clerk next door 

returned from his dinner a half-hour earlier than 
the others in the express office, he had little ex- 
pectation of Smith visiting the cash-box at that 
time. Nevertheless, as the noon hour drew near, 
he found himself listening for the bell with sup- 
pressed excitement. 

"There might be just a 
chance of his visiting the 
box," he told himself, "just 
to learn whether I had — " 
From behind him came a 
sharp "Zip, zip!" then a 
"Whir-r-r !" With a bound 
Jack was on his feet and 
rushing for the door. Down 
the stairs he went, three 
steps at a time, and into 
the manager's private office. 
"Mr. Black !" he cried. 
"I 've got the man who took 
the box ! Down the cel- 
lar ! Quick !" 

"I found the box, with 
the money still in it, and 
fixed up an alarm-bell cir- 
cuit, to go off when he 
came for it," he explained 
hurriedly, as the manager 

In a moment Mr. Black 
was on his feet and hasten- 
ing after Jack toward the 
cellar stairs. 

Quietly they tiptoed 
down. They reached the 

"There !" said Jack, 
pointing in triumph. And 
looking, the manager be- 
held Smith, the express 
clerk, on his knees beside 
the furnace, before him on 
the floor the missing box. 

Ten minutes later the 
manager of the express 
company, who had been 
called, passed out of Mr. 
Black's office with his clerk 
in charge, and the telegraph manager grasped 
Jack's hand. 

"I am more sorry than I can say to have placed 
the blame upon you, my boy," he said earnestly. 
"And I am very thankful for the clever way you 
cleared the mystery up. You are a sort of 'electrical 
detective,' are n't you?" he added, with a smile. 
And about the office, and even over the wire, Jack 
went by that nickname — the"Electrical Detective." 

J^Jescture eoid Ccience for Youncr Folkf 




There is a peculiar charm and interest in the 
study of the homes of wild creatures. Their ef- 
forts and the results in building these, even if 
crude, appeal to our sympathies. 

We have admired, and, to some extent, have 
investigated the nests of the more familiar birds ; 
we have seen the squirrel make his home in some 
dead tree or hollow limb ; we have, perhaps, 
studied the muskrat and his peculiar, dome-shaped 
house. Few people, however, have had the op- 
portunity of giving the matter extended study. 

Among birds, the home of the bald eagle is 
perhaps the most striking, possibly because of 
the majesty of the bird itself. It appeals to the 


imagination. Built of huge sticks loosely inter- 
woven, and situated on some lofty and inacces- 
sible ledge, with the bones of the eagle's victims 
scattered round about, it gives a proper setting to 

Bald eagles feed chiefly upon fish. As a last resort they sometimes 
capture these in the water, but they prefer to rob the fish-hawk or to 
take dead fish cast up on the shore. They feed also on water-fowl, 
which they capture themselves. They occasionally carry off a rabbit 
(as pictured by our artist) or other small form of four-footed life. As to 
their ability to carry off larger forms of life there has been much dis- 
cussion. " Birds that Hunt and Are Hunted " has this statement: 

" In the interior young domestic animals are carried off, but scientists 
raise their eyebrows at tales of children being borne away by eagles ; 
yet it would seem that some rare instances are well authenticated." 

the stern and savage character of its builder. 
Here the eagle reigns supreme, and here year 
after year he and his mate rear their young. 
This is the aery from which he can scan the 
whole country-side and, like the robber barons 
of old, levy toll on all who pass his door. 

Far in the still, white North, where winter 
reigns supreme, is the home of the polar bear. 
When the long arctic night approaches, the bear 
retires to some sheltered spot, such as the cleft 
of a rock or the foot of some precipitous bank. 
In a very short time he is effectually concealed 
by the heavy snow-drifts. Sometimes the bear 
waits until after a heavy fall of snow, and then 
digs a white cavern of the requisite form and 
size. Such is his home for six long months. 

Our common little cottontail, or so-called rab- 
bit, does not live in a burrow as does the English 
rabbit, but makes a slight depression in the 
ground, in which she lies so flatly pressed to the 
earth as to be scarcely distinguishable from the 
soil and the dried herbage in which her abode is 
situated. The rabbit is strongly attached to its 
home wherever it may be placed, and, even if 
driven to a great distance from it, contrives to 
regain its little domicile at the earliest opportunity. 

One of the most gruesome among animal homes 
is the wolf's den. This is simply a hole dug in 
the side of a bank or a small natural cave, gen- 
erally situated on the sunny side of a ridge, and 
almost hidden by bushes and loose boulders. 
Here the wolf lies snug ; in and about his door- 
way lie the remains of past feasts, which, coupled 
with his own odor, make the wolf's den a not 
very inviting place. Nevertheless there is some- 
thing so dread and so mysterious about this soft- 
footed marauder that it even lends a fascination 
to his home. 

6 44 



A "fly-by-night" sort of home is that of our 
friend the bob-white, yet it seems to serve the 
purpose very well. Under the broad, low bough 
of a small pine- or cedar-tree the flock take their 
night's repose. Quail, in retiring, always sit in 
a circle with their heads outward, and so they 
rest, presenting a barricade of sharp eyes and 
sharper ears against possible danger. 


The home of the elegant little harvest-mouse 
next claims our attention. It is built upon three 
or four rank grass stems and is situated a foot 
or so from the ground. In form it is globular 
and about four inches in diameter. It is com- 
posed of thin dry grass, is of nearly uniform 
substance, and open and airy in construction. It 
shows great cleverness in this little animal, which 
is the smallest of mammals. 

The winter home of the American red deer is 
very interesting. When the snow begins to fly, 
the leader of the herd guides them to some shel- 
tered spot where provender is plentiful. Here, 
as the snow falls, they pack it down, tramping 
out a considerable space, while about them the 
snow mounts higher and higher until they cannot 
get out if they would. From the main opening, 

or "yard," as it is called, tramped-out paths lead 
to the near-by trees and shrubbery, which supply 
them with food. In this way they manage to pass 
the winter in comparative peace and safety. 

One could go on enumerating bird and animal 
homes by the score, and they would all be of in- 
terest. The present space, however, will not per- 
mit of going further. The writer has, therefore, 
simply described some of the more curious of the 
homes, as well as those presenting the widest 

Edwin Megargee. 


In Llewellyn Park, West Orange, New Jersey, 
three trees— a chestnut, a beech, and a birch — 
grow so closely together as to give the appear- 
ance of one compound stump. 

This recalls the fact that the "big elm" at 
Springfield, Massachusetts, much eulogized by 
Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes and others on ac- 
count of the huge size of its trunk, was found, 
when cut down, to consist of three trees, a com- 

Photograph by Frank P. Jewett. 

pound trunk, with the bark of each distinct in 
cross-section ; yet the united three were so cov- 
ered with bark as to give to the group the appear- 
ance of one tree trunk. 





There is a man with the quite unheroic name of 
Bert Swan who catches alligators with his hands, 


turns them on their backs, and makes them as 
helpless as infants. The alligators that Swan 
does this with are not the giants that bask in the 
mud of tropical rivers, but they are sufficiently 
formidable nevertheless. It is wonderful with 
what quickness these saurians can snap at a man. 
Swan gave a little session with his pets for the 
benefit of the camera man, and this quickness of 
action on the part of the alligators was fully dem- 
onstrated before the little 
private performance ended. 
The first task was to get 
the alligator into the open 
where the light was suf- 
ficiently good to permit of 
snap-shots. Thiswasdoneby 
two men grasping the alli- 
gator, one seizing his jaws 
with a lightning movement 
and the other grabbing his 
wildly waving tail. In the 
open the alligator proved as 
wicked as could have been 
wished. Swan's method of 
catching him was to hold the 
hands in readiness and wait 
for a favorable chance to 
grab the upper and lower 
jaws. As this was done 
while the formidable rows 

of teeth were apparently aching for a chance to 
snap the man's arm, it was no simple matter to 
catch the jaws and imprison them. 

Swan waited a long time before he saw his 
chance, and the eye could scarcely follow the 
movement of his hands as they were darted to- 
ward the outstretched jaws. 
Once the jaws were closed 
in the man's vise-like grip 
it was a simple matter to 
slip one hand under the 
snout, seize one of the 
clawing legs with the other, 
and turn the alligator on 
his back. 

The owner of the alligator 
says he has found a way to 
hypnotize the creatures. Be 
that as it may, it is true 
that he made the wicked 
little saurian lie perfectly 
still for as long a time as 
he wished, and then raised 
him in his arms and carried 
him around like a baby, 
the animal being apparently 
sound asleep all the time. 
When Swan put him down and touched his throat 
with a finger, he awoke once more into vicious 
life and began snapping as before. 

The alligator cannot move very quickly on his 
legs, and it is easy enough to avoid him when he 
comes at you, but to try and pinion his jaws is 
another matter, and a task that no one would care 
to try unless gifted with lightning-like agility and 
the quickest of eyes, as well as with muscular hands. 


mouth opens when the hands are held apart. 

Small alligators may be purchased at most ani- 
mal stores, and are as easily cared for as are 
frogs and turtles. H. D. Jones. 





In order to produce heat, some kind of work 
must be done ; for instance, when you run or 
jump or exercise violently you become heated. 
This is because you do a certain amount of work. 


Another example that might be taken is a rap- 
idly revolving wheel. You boys and girls all 
know that if you hold your hand on such a wheel 
lightly, you can keep it there; but if you bear 
down at all, your hand will become so hot that 
you will draw it away quickly. This latter exam- 
ple is much the same as heating by electricity. 
Electricity, many of you know, of course, has to 
have a conductor which has to be metallic. 
When you wish to make a good deal of elec- 
tricity go through the conductor, or wire, you 
use a conductor which will not impede its prog- 
ress, or, speaking in electrical terms, one of low 
resistance, and, like the example of holding 
the hand only lightly on the swiftly moving 
wheel, will not cause the electricity to generate 
any heat. 

If, on the other hand, we should use a con- 
ductor which would impede the flow of elec- 
tricity, or, again speaking in electrical terms, 
one of high resistance, we will cause the elec- 
tricity to generate heat in its effort to travel 
along the wire. The more resistance offered to 
the flow of electricity, that is, the higher the re- 
sistance of the conductor used, the more heat 
we obtain for a given flow of current. But, 
going back to the wheel example, if we should 
hold our hand on the wheel and keep bearing 
down, we would in time stop the wheel, unless 
additional power is expended to keep the wheel 
turning. This is the same with the electrical cur- 
rent. If we use a conductor of high enough re- 
sistance, which corresponds to bearing down on 
the wheel, we would stop the flow of current al- 
most entirely unless extra power or electrical 
energy were applied to keep the current flowing. 
This would mean an increase in the voltage nec- 

What, then, is voltage? The term is familiar. 

You all know that to force water through a 
pipe requires a certain pressure, and the smaller 
the pipe the higher is the water pressure required 
to keep the water moving. In other words, water 
pressure corresponds to electrical voltage, and 
the amount of water flowing 
corresponds to the amount of 
electrical current, or amperes, 
flowing. You will therefore 
see that in order to generate 
a great deal of heat we will 
have to use a certain amount of 
current and also have to offer 
resistance to its flow, maintain- 
ing sufficient voltage in order 
to keep it flowing, as the heat 
depends upon the amount of 
current forced through the wire. 
In one of the commercial car-heaters the resis- 
tance-coil is wound upon a porcelain support, and 
a coil of great length is used. This aids in getting 
the heat out into the surrounding air, as the 
greater the heating surface the more heat will be 

On account of the absolute cleanliness of the 
apparatus, the ease of turning on the heat with an 


electric switch, and the extreme light weight of 
the heaters, electric heating is coming into use 
very rapidly.— Thomas Farmer, Jr. 


According to the calculations of the astronomers, 
on May eighteenth the earth will be plunged into 
the tail of Halley's comet, while the head will be 
fifteen millions of miles away. 

Similar passages of the earth through the tails 
of comets have previously occurred without pro- 
ducing any appreciable effect. There have been 
wild tales of the effects of poisonous gases, but 
all these are without foundation. It is not proba- 
ble that our atmosphere will be affected so that 
even the most skilled chemist can discover a 
change in its composition. No one need fear be- 
cause our earth is "brushed" by the tail of a comet. 





In the year 1840 a young man, William Moon, 
living in the town of Brighton, England, who 
afterward became a Doctor of Laws, was stricken 
with blindness as he entered into manhood. He 
at once gave his attention to mastering the vari- 
ous systems of embossed reading, and began to 
seek out and teach other blind persons to read. 




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But, as he soon found difficulties in teaching his 
pupils by methods then in use, he devised an 
easier plan of reading, which was readily ac- 
quired by a lad who had in vain endeavored for 
five years to learn by the other systems. 

This new type— now known as the "Moon 
type" — has an alphabet consisting of letters of 
very simple construction, combined with a full 
orthography. The characters are composed prin- 
cipally of the Roman letters, in their original or 
in slightly modified forms; and where some of 
the more complex letters of the Roman alphabet 
could not be altered with advantage, new charac- 
ters are substituted for them. The alphabet con- 
sists of only nine characters, placed in various 

positions. It is composed of the simplest geo- 
metrical forms, such as the straight line, the acute 
and right angles, the circle, and the semicircle. 
In order that the reader shall not lose his place, 
the first line is read from left to right, and the 
second from right to left, and so on. The finger 
is guided by a curved bracket from the end of 
the line to the one below. 

The more the type was tried, the 
more evident it became that it was 
adapted to the needs of the blind, and 
for half a century Dr. Moon devoted 
himself with untiring energy to the 
preparation of embossed literature in 
the English and many foreign lan- 
guages. The total number of vol- 
umes issued in this type, since the 
commencement of the work in 1847 
up to the present time (1910), has 
been 280,000, and 77,000 stereotyped 
plates made during that period are 
carefully preserved at the Moon In- 
stitute for the Blind, at Brighton, 
which, since Dr. Moon's death in 
1894, has been conducted by his 
daughter, Miss Moon. 

Since the introduction of the Moon 
type, home teaching societies and free 
lending libraries for the blind have 
come into operation. The first was 
established in London by Dr. William 
Moon and a friend in 1855, and has 
at the present time fifteen teachers 
engaged in seeking out and teaching 
the blind to read in their own homes 
and furnishing them, free of charge, 
with a regular exchange of books. 
Eighty similar societies have been 
formed in various parts of the world. 
That in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 
is the pioneer society of its kind in 
America, having been organized by 
Dr. William Moon and his daughter, Miss 
Moon, in 1882. It now has a circulation of 
16,000 embossed books yearly, loaning books free 
of charge to blind people in various parts of the 
United States. Any information in reference to 
that work will be gladly furnished by the secre- 
tary, Dr. Robert C. Moon, 617 Witherspoon 
Building, Philadelphia. The easily felt Moon 
type can readily be taught the blind, and many 
young persons have succeeded in teaching blind 
people to read. Since the United States Con- 
gress in 1904 granted free postage of embossed 
books sent through the mail, there has been a great 
increase in the number of books for the blind. 
Robert C. Moon, M.D. 






Vicksburg, Miss. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Why does the moon look bigger 
when it first rises than when it is farther up in the heavens? 
This summer I was at Galveston, Texas, and one night 
when we were walking on the beach the moon looked as 
big as a steamship. Can you tell why this is? 
Your loving reader, 

Chesley N. Wood. 

One of the principal reasons assigned to this 
well-known deceptive appearance is that on the 
horizon we compare the moon with houses and 
trees and see how large it really is ; but when the 
moon is well up in the sky we have no such scale 
of comparison, and in the surrounding vacant 
space it seems smaller. 

why telegraph posts "hum" 

Abinger Hall, Dorking, England. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I want to know why telegraph 
posts " hum." I wonder if it is the messages passing over 
the lines, because sometimes one hears the sound and 
sometimes one does not. May I look for an answer in 
" Because We Want to Know " ? 

Yours truly, 
Katharine D. Farrer (age 12). 

The humming sound originates in the vibration 
of the tense wires and is carried by the posts to 
your ear. The vibration is usually caused by a 
peculiar quality or condition of the wind, or may 
be caused by a stroke from a stick or stone. This 
musical vibration is carried through the wires 
and posts to a great distance. 

In Henry David Thoreau's Journals there are 
frequent references to the music from what he 
very fittingly calls the "telegraph harp." He was 
especially fond of it and much affected by it. He 
writes thus : 

The telegraph harp sounds more commonly now that 
westerly winds prevail. The winds of winter are too 
boisterous, too violent or rude, and do not strike it at the 
right angle when I walk, so that it becomes one of the 
spring sounds. 

Again he says : 

Few are the days when the telegraph harp rises into a 
pure, clear melody. The wind may blow strong or soft in this 
or that direction, naught will you hear but a low hum or 
murmur, or even a buzzing sound ; but at length when 
some undistinguishable zephyr blows, when the conditions, 
not easy to be detected, arrive, it suddenly and unexpect- 
edly rises into melody, as if a god had touched it, and for- 
tunate is the walker who chances to be within hearing. 
Vol. XXXVII. —82-83. 

Thoreau was especially fond of his "telegraph 
harp" in a certain cut by the railroad. He com- 
pared the music to Greek poets, to the finest of 
life, to all ennobling influences. 

When I hear the telegraph harp I think I must read the 
Greek poets. This sound is like a brighter color, red or 
blue or green, where all was dull white or black. It proph- 
esies finer senses, a finer life, a golden age. It is the 
poetry of the railroad. The heroic and poetic thoughts 
which the Irish laborers had at their toil have now got ex- 
pression, that which has made the world mad so long. Or 
is it the gods expressing their delight at this invention? . . . 
The telegraph harp has spoken to me more distinctly and 
effectually than any man ever did. 


Highmount, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas : One day I was out looking for four- 
leaved clovers, when I found these curious purple insect 
eggs " growing " on the grass. Would you please tell me 
to what insect they belong? 

Yours truly, 

Florence Tanenbaum. 

Without the aid of a microscope the tiny par- 
ticles on the grass may easily be mistaken for 
insect eggs ; but under even a small pocket-micro- 
scope their appearance is wonderfully changed. 
The growth is a form of "slime-mold," known to 
the scientists as Physarum cinereum. The fam- 
ily of molds is called Myxomycetes, and is usu- 
ally described in advanced books of botany, 
though some modern authors consider it a group 
belonging to neither the vegetable nor animal 
kingdom. These growths are quite common upon 

magnified view of the growths on the grass. 

grass and other plants, especially on those grown 
in rich soil. The dark, powdery substance within 
the sponge-like parts consists of the spores; that 




is, bodies that are somewhat like the seeds of 
flowering plants. 


Independence, Ore. 
Dear St. Nicholas: This morning I was walking through 
my small garden when I came across an ear of corn grow- 
ing out of the tassel. I have heard of double roses, but 
this puzzles me. I am sending it to you. Please enlighten 
me. Yours truly, 

Joseph Eaton (age 13). 

The explanation for this apparent freak is 
that the corn plant is a member of the grass fam- 
ily, but through its natural selection, and the se- 
lection and specialization of mankind, it has 
changed its habits in regard to the point at which 
it attaches the corn upon the plant. You will 
recall that the common grasses have both their 
flowers and seed in the head— the part that corre- 
sponds to the tassel of the corn. In the case of 
the grasses' the weight of the seed produced, 
however, is very little ; in the case of the corn the 
weight of the seed has become comparatively 
heavy, and hence the reason for the location of 
the ear as we find it at present— farther down 
on the side of the stalk, where it will not be 
easily broken off, and so that the plant can sup- 
port it and keep it off the ground. 

Just why an occasional corn plant will attempt 
to go back to the habits of its ancestors has never 
been satisfactorily explained, though it has long 
been considered by those making a study of he- 


Naples, Italy 
Dear St. Nicholas: I was examining a few days ago a 
mandarin-tree, and found on it two different kinds of 

the miniature yet complete ear, with silk, 
from the end of the tassel. 

reditary tendencies. — C. H. Kyle, Acting in 
Charge of Corn Investigations, United States 
Department of Agriculture. 


leaves on the same branch. I am inclosing the leaves to 
show you ; one is the natural one, and the other is the 
freak. Could you explain the reason of this curious 
growth ? 

Your very interested reader, 

Charles I. Mortona. 

The leaves of the oranges are compound and 
in most species with but one leaflet. The com- 
mon leafstalk in the same species develops or does 
not develop a wing. In one of the leaves the 
wing is developed, and in the other it is not. 


Wakefield, R. I. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I have found many snake holes in 
the fields. These holes are round, usually about an inch 
in diameter, very neatly made, and seem to go a long way 
into the ground. Can you tell me how the snakes make 
these holes ? 

Yours sincerely, 

Marion Richmond Gardner. 

The holes commonly seen in the fields are not 
"snake holes," though commonly called such. 
They are made by field-mice, shrews, and moles, 
often by the larger insects, and it is very seldom 
that snakes even take refuge in them. Few snakes 
actually dig holes. They burrow in soft ground 
— the subterraneous species; but these live, as a 
rule, in soft, yielding soil — Raymond L. Ditmars. 




why snow is dirty after a thaw 

West Newton, Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Please tell me why the snow is 
usually dirty after a thaw. After thinking on this subject 
for a while, I came to the following conclusions : 

1. Perhaps the dirt that appears on the surface was in 
the snow before the thaw, and as the snow decreased in 
quantity, the proportion of the dirt to the snow would be- 
come greater, and the dirt, therefore, would be more 

2. The slight warming of the air would make it lighter 
than before, and more ready to receive moisture from the 
melting snow ; then, warm and laden with moisture, the 
air, doubly light, would be so light as to no longer bear up 
the dust in it, which would fall upon the snow. 

Respectfully yours, 

Philip D. Woodbridge 

The dust particles that are in the air are con- 
tinually being deposited, and when the snow be- 
comes moist they adhere to it more readily, and 
also the relative amount of impurities is increased 
as the snow melts. In case of rain falling during 
a thaw, the raindrops also bring down the im- 
purities in the atmosphere, and thus increase the 
amount of dust particles that are deposited upon 
the snow.— H. E. Williams, Assistant Chief of 
Weather Bureau. 


Brooklyn, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Will you kindly let me know what 
kind of a nest the inclosed is ? I found it fastened on the 
wood of our roof scuttle. 

Yours truly, 

Fred Lohman. 

The nest was made by the common mud-wasp, 
Sccliphron ccmcntarius. This insect is fairly 
common in the eastern United States, and can be 

a camera view in the philippine islands 

Fort William McKinley, Rizal, 
Philippine Islands. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I noticed in " Nature and Science " 
of your December number a picture of carabaos, or water- 


found especially around buildings in the country 
sections.— L. O. Howard. 

Note especially the interesting forms of over- 
lapping layers in which the mud is arranged. 


buffaloes, plowing, and I also read your short article de- 
scribing them, so therefore take a great deal of pleasure 
in sending you the accompanying picture showing more 
clearly how fond the carabaos are of wallowing in the 
water. I also have observed carabaos employed in plow- 
ing rice-fields. 

I hope this snap-shot may be of interest to you and 
your readers, and if at any time I can answer any ques- 
tions that you may ask, I shall be very glad to do it. I re- 

Always your true friend and admirer, 

Gladys Bowen. 

what is a sun-dog? 

Minneapolis, Minn. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Would you please tell me what 
causes sun-dogs ? This morning there were four around 
the sun and a large ring around them. A rainbow was in 
the middle that seemed to cut the sky right in two. Our 
teacher told us to go to the window and see it. It was all 
very beautiful and did not stay long. We have been hav- 
ing very severe weather, and I wondered if that had any- 
thing to do with it. I have seen other sun-dogs, but none 
so large or beautiful as these. 

Your affectionate reader, 

Lorraine Townsley. 

When the rays of the sun pass through the small 
ice particles high in our atmosphere, they are so 
bent or refracted as to cause rings of various di- 
ameter to be formed that seem rings around the 
sun. These rings are termed halos ; sometimes 
they are wholly separate and sometimes they 
"cut" into each other. In the latter case the places 
where they "cut" each other are bright patches 
of light, called "mock suns" or "sun-dogs." 

ggggSSglS ii^S SB ~-y.*-v. -'- ■- r"w~ -,---. 




» ( W ^ Ja ^^ g ^.«^^ g^^ VV^V'?^:^^ 

Have you ever, when you were smaller than you 
are now, seen a sunbeam glancing across the 
room, and tried to catch it in your hands? Of 
course you cannot possibly get it, cannot feel 
it, cannot do more than close your little hands 
upon it and pretend it is within them. 

Well, there are a lot of other things besides 
sunbeams that it is practically impossible to 
catch ; and yet we have a way of trying to do it, 
even after we are far past childhood. Among 
the rest are a number of feelings and ideas that, 
like the sunbeam, seem tangible enough, but 
which somehow slip through the words in which 
we try to catch them, as the ray of light slips 
through your fingers. It is in order to grasp these 
shining yet immaterial parts of our mind and 
heart that poetry came into existence. For poetry 
is more than just words, and often, even when 
you do not understand what it is all about, you 
get a great deal of pleasure just from its sound 
and movement ; it satisfies something in you, it 
manages to hold the sunbeam for a moment, and 
for an instant to catch what it is impossible ever 
wholly to capture. 

This does not mean that poetry is always about 
things hard to understand, or that you cannot 
find much in it that might perhaps be said in 
prose. But there is something besides, and it is 
that, and - not the actual rhymes, that makes it 
different from prose, and which gives you a plea- 
sure in addition to that given by the meaning of 
the words alone. 

In early times in Italy there used to be people 
who could improvise in verse, and who would 
recite beautiful poems on any moving or lovely 
topic without having to stop and think for their 
words. The Italian language is especially suited 
to this form of expression, and so it was not so 
difficult to do as it would be in English ; but the 
point is that these Improvisatori, as they were 
called, felt what they wanted to say so intensely 
that their feeling naturally translated itself into 
the measure and rhythm of verse, since it could 
not all be expressed in prose. Of course some of 
the feeling must still escape, for we can never 
quite get it all. 

It is difficult to talk of this particular quality 
so that it may be understood, since it is. really 

the poetry alone that can explain; fortunately 
most of us need no other explanation. For in- 
stance, if, like Wordsworth, you were suddenly to 
come upon a lake bordered by nodding daffo- 
dils in countless numbers, the beauty of the sight 
would awaken a strong and happy feeling in you 
which you certainly could not express by simply 
describing how the flowers looked; that would 
still leave your own feeling about them un- 
touched. But if you were a poet like Words- 
worth you could put most of that feeling into 
a lyrical arrangement of words and have a poem 
like his beginning: 

1 wandered lonely as a cloud 

That floats on high o'er vales am 


and thus the feeling of beauty as well as its sight 
would be caught. 

Not being poets, which is true of most of us, 
we are nevertheless able to feel the ecstasy and 
enchantment which those flowers and that clear 
lake gave to the poet Wordsworth, by reading 
what he wrote ; and our "inward eye" is also 
blessed with the same radiant vision that inspired 
him with such rapture. 


Thus it is that great emotions of triumph or 
sorrow or joy or patriotism find their way into 
verse because they must have more than just the 
words to express themselves. 

Read Tennyson's "Ode on the Death of the 
Duke of Wellington" if you would see how the 
solemn music of the lines, quite apart from the 
meaning of the words, gives you the sensation of 
grief and solemnity. 

Bury the Great Duke 

With an empire's lamentation, 

Let us bury the Great Duke 

To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation : 

Mourning when their leaders fall, 

Warriors carry the warrior's pall, 

And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall. 

Is that not high and noble music? And this: 

Now to the roll of muffled drums 
To thee the greatest soldier comes; 
For this is he 

Was great by land as thou by sea; 
His foes were thine; he kept us free; 
O, give him welcome ; this is he 




Worthy of our gorgeous rites, 
And worthy to be laid by thee. 

Lowell's "Harvard Ode," where he hails Lin- 
coln, touches these same heights of sorrow and 
of triumph over the great dead, and moves you, 
as you read it, like the sound of the wild wailing 
of a splendid storm. There are short songs, too, 
like Tennyson's "Tears, Idle Tears" or Shelley's 
"O World, O Life, O Time," that give a keener 
note of sadness than lies in the words alone. 


Several writers have rather mischievously taken 
advantage of this peculiar attribute of verse and 
written lines that sound very fine, but really 
mean nothing at all. Such is Lewis Carroll's 
"The Jabberwock," that assuredly seems to mean 
quantities of heroic and exciting things, but when 
you come to look at the words you find that most 
of them are nothing but sound, though, to be 
sure, they sound all right. I know a little boy, 
not three yet, who knows "The Jabberwock" by 
heart, and loves it dearly. And since most words 
are as yet only sound and feeling to him, prob- 
ably he understands the verses better than the 
rest of us. 


Almost all. of us are fond of the poems by Scott 
and Macaulay that tell of ancient deeds of war 
and love and adventure. Do you know Scott's 
"Lady of the Lake," with its picture, in the first 
stanza, of the stag asleep on the Scotch mountain- 
side, "in lone Glenartney's hazel shade," and all 
its splendid story of the adventures of Fitzjames 
and the love of Roderick Dhu for Ellen (daugh- 
ter of the great Douglas) , of whom the poet sings : 

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 
A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 
Of finer form, or lovelier face ? 

There is no manner of use reading these narra- 
tives in verse except for the pleasure they bring ; 
to bother too much over their form or their his- 
toric correctness is a pity and a waste of time. 
You want to let your fancy go and follow the 
story to the beat and rhythm of the lines, letting 
them take you along as the fairy horse Pegasus 
was famed to take his rider, without touching 
solid ground except for the fun of it, and leaping 
again at the least suggestion into the free blue 
air, whence, on looking down, everything appears 
lovelier, stranger than it ever can with both feet 
planted on the ground. If your heart does not 
beat a little faster at Marmion's last words : 

Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on ! 

than if the whole story had been told in prose 
and Marmion himself only a prose hero, why, 

I 'm very sorry for you, for you miss a lot of 
happiness, and happiness that will become more 
and more intense as you grow older, even though 
you will probably come to prefer other forms of 
verse above Scott's manly poems or the ringing 
lines of Macaulay. 


Besides these poems that were not written espe- 
cially for children, there are many books which 
were so written. Among them are Robert Louis 
Stevenson's "Child's Garden of Verses," and the 
charming books by Eugene Field. I used to 
know Mr. Field when I was a child, and he was 
a famous playmate. Such games as he and my 
brothers and sisters and I had together, and what 
tricks he would play on us ! But no matter for 
that; we adored him, for he understood children 
thoroughly, and was largely made up of pure 
child himself, for all his six feet of height and 
bald head. I remember how surprised I was, 
after his first visit to us, to read his "Little Boy 
Blue," which is so exquisitely sad and tender; 
for I was too young then to know that it is only 
the hearts that have intimate knowledge of sor- 
row that can also be the gayest and the kindest. 
Later on we heard Field read many of his 
songs. And one of them, "Seein' Things," was 
suggested to him by a small brother of mine, who 
came to breakfast one morning with round eyes 
still filled with terror, and related a tale of hob- 
goblin sights that had made the past night hide- 
ous to him. The last two lines of the poem. 

No, ruther let Starvation wipe me slowly out of sight, 
Than I should keep a-livin' on an' seein' things at night 

impressed us as particularly awesome, since we 
were children of no meager appetite, while the 
prodigies performed at meal-time by that same 
small brother were truly wonderful. Well, it 's 
all "over the years and far away," now. But the 
books are still here, and I find that my little 
nephews and nieces are as fond of them as we 
were, and as I hope you all are. 

Another lovely writer of poems for children is 
James Whitcomb Riley, who was himself a close 
friend of Eugene Field. His verses are as nu- 
merous as they are delightful, and one cannot go 
wrong with any of them, while one ought to have 
them all. Nowadays they are brought out so 
prettily, with charming pictures and beautiful 
covers, that they are a joy every way you look 
at them. But they are best of all when you know 
them by heart and tell them over to yourself 
when you are lying out under the trees or wan- 
dering beside the brook in the fields of summer, 



full of all those mixed-up and delicious feelings 
that crowd into you at those times and want to 
make you do absurd things like hugging the gray 
trunks of the old trees, or rolling on the soft 
grass that hides so many miracles under its stalks 
and blades. It is this mixed and tumultuous 
feeling that poetry is best for. In the old days 
warriors used to go to battle chanting strange 
runes and songs to relieve their excitement. And 
we have no better way to express ours, coming 
from whatsoever sources. Give yourselves a 
chance to find out how real this enjoyment is, 
and do not be frightened away from poetry be- 
cause it looks difficult or unnatural. For it is 
really one of the most natural things in the 

There is another long poem I hope you will 
learn to like as children, and that is Longfellow's 

"Hiawatha." There is not in the world a more 
lovely or touching story than this old Indian 
legend, and the poet put it into music so haunt- 
ing that it sings itself through all the rest of 
your life once you have read it. 

Just now, when all the flowers are nodding to 
each other after the winter's seclusion, and the 
birds are frantic with the joy of the green world, 
just now seems to be, and so has seemed for 
ages, the special singing-time of earth. And that 
is why I have talked of poetry all through this 
month's "Books and Reading." It is what Ten- 
nyson called "the boyhood of the year," and was 
meant to sing in. 

Open your books of verse and go out into the 
sunshine, which you know is real even though 
you can't hold it in your hands, and sing too. 
Some of the sun-rays will stay in your hearts, if 
not in hands, all your life. 

pnn^ Canine 


There are tall white blossom candles 
On the big horse-chestnut tree ; 

In the yellow springtime sunshine 
They are burning merrily. 

In the wind they bend and flicker, 
And in every draft they flare, 

But they still are burning gaily 
In the sunny springtime air. 

In the moonlight, every taper 

Shines all white and dim and pale, 

Yet the burning springtide candles 
In the night-time do not fail. 

But with sun and wind and moonlight 
Of the summer, then, no doubt, 

On the green horse-chestnut branches 
All the candles will go out. 













We go by railroad, and you are sure to see some of 
these things, either on the train, or out of the windows 

n iiiiraiOiiiiiBiBiiiilsi 


Look carefully at them all, so that you will know them 

another time. And tell your little brother or sister 

just what they are. 




As you travel along through the country, there will be 
many different places, people, and sights for you,to see. 

Can you tell in what parts of the country you will see 
these sights ? If you cannot guess, here they are : i 
Down South; 2 Out West; 3 On the Farm; 4 In 
the Coal Lands; 5 On the Plains; 6 In the Woods. 




Sometimes you may grow tired of looking out of the 
car windows, so here are some amusing pictures 
to entertain you, as the train goes rushing along. 

The little boy who plays, soldiers. 

The little girl who has lots of dolls. 

The little girl who dresses up. 

The little boy who likes to be a policeman. 

The little boy who wants to be an Indian. The children who play aut omobile. 

Perhaps you left some little friends at home who like 

to play these games. 



{Cask Prize) 


I 've sat here all the afternoon, watching her busy fingers He 's sat here all the afternoon, talking about an awful 

send game; 

That needle in and out. How soon, I wonder, will she One boy will not be out till June, and then he may be 

reach the end ? always lame. 

Embroidery ! I can't see how a girl of Molly's common Foot-ball ! I 'm sure I can't see why a boy like Bob — so 

sense good and kind — 

Can spend her time like that. Why, now — just look at Wishes to see poor fellows lie hurt on the ground. I may 

that ! I may be dense, be blind, 

But, somehow, I don't see the fun in punching lots of But, somehow, I don't see the fun. Some one calls, 

holes down through 
A piece of cloth ; and, one by one, sewing them up. 

But Molly '11 do 
A dozen of them, right around 
That shapeless bit of stuff she 's found. 
A dozen of them ! Just like that ! 
And thinks it 's sense she 's working at. 

"14-16-9 " ; 

You kick the ball, and then you run and try to reach a 
white chalk-line. 
And Bob would sit right there all day 
And talk like that, and never say 
A single word of sense ; or so 
It seems to me. I may not know. 

But, then, she 's just a girl (although she 's quite the best But Bob 's a faithful friend to me. So let him talk that 

one of the lot!), game detested, 

And I '11 just have to let her sew, whether it 's foolishness And I will smile and seem to be most wonderfully inter- 

or not. ested! 

This bright bit of verse is placed at the head of the 
League this month because it is a fine example of clever 
rhyming, as well as of a very ingenious setting for the 
subject "Friends." Molly and Bob are made to seem very 
" real " to us just by what they say, in turn ; and the con- 
trast between the girl's and the boy's point of view is pre- 
sented with admirable balance and equal effectiveness. 
But another striking excellence of the piece lies in the very 
skilful use of a double rhyme for each couplet- — that is, 
there is a rhyme in the middle of each pair of lines as well 
as at the close — and these double rhymes are maintained 

almost throughout the two stanzas, with an ease and grace 
that a grown-up and practised author could not easily sur- 
pass. The contribution is a little gem in the smoothness 
and perfection of its rhythm, in its deft use of contrast, and 
in its naturalness of expression from first to last. As its 
young author has already won both a gold and a silver 
badge, and, therefore, is an Honor Member of the League, 
we gladly award a Cash Prize to the clever rhyme. 

This month's prose competition held a great surprise; 
not so much on account of the merit of the contributions, 
which for the most part were excellent, as because nearly 


In making the awards, competitors' ages are considered. 

PROSE. Silver badges, Lesley Waterman (age 12), Northampton, Mass.; Audrey Lucas (age 11), Kingston, 

Eng. ; Stella Green (age 15), Philadelphia, Pa. 

VERSE. Cash prize, E. Vincent Millay (age 17), Camden, Me. 

Silver badges, Leisa G. Wilson (age 10), Pasadena, Cal. ; Edwina G. Hall (age 15), New York City, N. Y. 

DRAWING. Gold badge, Marjorie E. Chase (age 17), Warren, Mass. 

Silver badges, Dorotha Talbert (age 10), Grand Junction, Col. ; Sarah Jameson (age 14), Mansfield, O. 

PHOTOGRAPHY Silver badges, Paul Van Cleve (age 13), Little Falls, N. J.; Charlie W. Arnold (age 15), 

Orlando, Fla. ; Frances Matthews (age 15), Dallas, Tex. 

WILD CREATURE PHOTOGRAPHY. Class "C " prize, C. Pardee Erdman (age 15), Princeton, N. J. 

PUZZLE-MAKING. Gold badge, Ethel Knowlson Caster (age 17), Pittsburgh, Pa. 

Silver badge, John Hyatt, Jr. (age 15), Ridgewood, N. J. 

PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badges, Katharine Wenzel (age 12), Terre Haute, Ind. ; Alida H. Moss (age 13), 

Urbana, 111. ; Helen Tyler (age 13), Whitinsville, Mass. 




all the young writers favored "evening fun" as against 
"daytime fun." In giving out the subject, we had some 
misgivings that it would prove too one-sided, and that al- 
most every competitor would vote for "daytime fun"; 
but, to our surprise the great majority thought the other 
way ! It was pleasant and interesting, too, to hear of the 
many kinds of evening fun our members are familiar with, 
and how much they seem to enjoy them. 

There were several noteworthy pictures in the young 
photographers' contest that, both from the artistic and the 
humorous side, will be heartily appreciated by all the mem- 
bers of the League. 

building, and lie there in silence while the person who is 
"It" goes right past you without noticing you at all.. 





{Silver Badge) 

Although I like daytime fun very much, evening fun 
appeals to me more. 

What fun it is to play a game of hide-and-seek on a 
dark summer night ; to hide in some shadow of a tree or 


Or, on a cold, winter night to take a delightful ride on a 
ripper down the icy hill, inhaling the clear, cold air. 

Then, too, to go skating on a moonlight, winter night. 

There is also great fun to be had indoors of an evening. 
To gather around the fire, and tell ghost-stories which 
make your blood run cold — to pop corn, drink cider, or roast 
chestnuts, while a great deal of merriment goes on. 

To go out in the kitchen, garb yourself in an apron, and 
make fudge, bending over the hot mixture while the 
others stand around talking, laughing, and advising. 

These are some of the reasons why I like evening fun 
better than daytime fun, although I must admit I do have 
a great deal of fun in the daytime, too. 










{Silver Badge) 

I like day fun because in the winter you can go coasting 
on the hill and skating on the pond. In the fall you can 
go out in the woods and gather nuts. In the summer you 
can play tennis, croquet, and all sorts of games. You can 
go to see foot-ball and base-ball games. In the winter 
you can have fun throwing snowballs and making snow- 

U l iM^i i ' u - — - 



men. If you live in the country you can ride on hay 
wagons and go in swimming. You can go horseback- 
riding and have lots of fun. The boys can play marbles 
and fly kites. It is better to do your shopping in the day 
because in the evening it grows dark before you reach 

In the summer you can go out in the park and take your 
camera along, and take different views of the park. It is 
very nice to take pictures in the winter when the snow 
is on the ground. It is also pleasant to draw some of the 
snow views. 

It is very nice to visit Independence Hall and see the 
Liberty Bell and other historical buildings. It is very 
interesting to go out in the meadow and pick flowers. 

Then one may also gather apples, peaches, and other 
fruits. In the summer when the afternoons are too hot it is 
nice to have a sewing-circle in your home, or sit down and 
read a book, or play the piano. In the afternoons in the 
winter it is nice to make ice and cakes for the evening par- 


ties. Around Christmas time, when we have no school, we 
can have lots of fun coasting on thehill. It is very nice when 
Hallowe'en comes around, because it is lots of fun getting 
clothes ready for the party in the evening. But for all the 
parties in the evenings, I still like day fun best. 



{Silver Badge) 

I have a friend who 's far away ; 

I love her best of all I know. 
I write to her 'most every day 

To tell her that I miss her so. 

She lives across the street from me. 

I 've known her for a long, long time; 
But I '111 not with her much, you see, 

We go away in winter-time. 

In summer, too, we do not meet, 
But only in the spring and fall; 

But I am sure it is a treat 

When I can be with her at all. 

And when I 'm almost home again, 
It seems as though I could n't wait 

To leave the hot and tiresome train, 
And find her waiting at the gate. 





{Silver Badge) 

I 'VE many friends in every land 

Who come to visit me, 
On stormy nights when I 'm alone 

They keep me company. 

There 's brave Ben Hur, the Jewish lad, 

There 's gallant Ivanhoe; 
The fierce old pirate Captain Kidd, 

And love-lorn Romeo. 

King Arthur and his host of knights. 

George Washington the true, 
The poor imprisoned Queen of Scots 

Who never freedom knew. 

Joan of Arc, the peasant girl, 

Napoleon Bonaparte, 
Bassanio, who journeyed far 

To win fair Portia's heart. 

When by myself I sit and read 

Quaint tales of olden time, 
I meet these ever loyal friends, 

Dear friends, forever mine. 


(Silver Badge) 
It is very hard to think which is the nicer, evening or 
daytime fun ; but, on the whole, I think evening is the 
best. It is always so delightful to sit round a big wood 
fire and roast chestnuts and tell stories, or, if it is sumnier- 


"a winter scene 


calm, moonlight night ; it is so peaceful, and it makes you 
feel peaceful too, and rather sad. 

I think it is a more beautiful sight than one can ever see 
in the daytime. 

It is delightful to motor at night, all wrapped up in a 
big fur rug ; to watch the lights of a town go flashing by, 
and then to go tearing out into the quiet calm country, 
black and still, with here and there a light from some farm- 
house. Yes, I am sure that evening fun is the jolliest. 




One day as I lay on my sick-bed 
Watching the flowers and the trees, 

I heard a noise at my window 

Like the leaves rustling in a breeze. 


time, to go for long rides or walks in the moonlight. Par- 
ties, too, are lovely, and it is always more exciting to go 
to the theater at night than in the afternoon. Then, too, 
I think that nothing is so jolly as to act charades after 

When my friends come to stay with me, we have great 
fun all day ; but it is always nicest when Mother lets us 
get the dressing-up things out of the old chest, and then 
we act charades and tableaux for Mother and Daddy. It 
is glorious fun, and we always think it is the nicest part 
of the day. 

Then I think it perfectly lovely to watch the sea on a 

I gazed at a little brown creature, 

Perched on the window-sill ; 
'T was a squirrel, small and cunning, 
Who was busily eating his fill. 

I reached out my hand to pet him, 
But quick as a flash he was gone ; 

But the cunning little squirrel 
Came back on the next morn. 

He stayed by me all through my sickness, 

Gave me pleasure to the end. 
Now don't you think this squirrel 

Was a true and loving friend ? 





{Honor Member) 

When my brothers all go back to school, 

And my sister reads all day, 
There 's no one I can play with 

To pass the time away. 

So I go out in the orchard, 

And I talk to all the trees ; 
And they whisper stories to me, 

As they rustle in the breeze. 

I sit up in their branches, 

Where there 's many a cozy place ; 
And the green leaves dance all round me, 

And come and kiss my face. 

And when I have to go indoors, 

To lessons, or to tea, 
The trees all sigh, and seem quite sad, 

To say good-by to me. 

My sister says the sighing 

Is nothing but the breeze, 
But I really think they 're fond of me, 

My friends, the apple-trees. 




It really is a hard thing to decide which I like best, eve- 
ning or daytime fun, but I think I like evening best. 

Sometime; Mother lets us get our chafing-dish and get 
everything ready, and make "fudge," or "talkers' 
best," or some kind of candy. 

There is nothing that I would rather do than make 
candy, so I usually do the cooking or at least do the mix- 
ing ; but with four children, every child must have a chance 
to "stir." Then in the excitement of the candy-making 
we put in three too many drops of vanilla, or put four 
pinches of salt instead of two. But that makes no differ- 
ence at all ; we eat it just the same. As we never have 
much time to make candy in the daytime I like evening best. 

Prize-winners should not be disappointed if they do not receive 
their badges at the time of receiving their magazine. To avoid 
loss in the case of changes of address that have not been brought 
to our notice, badges are sent out on the twenty-fifth of the 
month — ten or more days after the magazine is issued. 



One winter's night, I sat musing near the fireplace. What 
a splendid night for a sleigh-ride or skate. "That full 
moon makes it beautiful out of doors," I thought. 


As if in answer to my thoughts I heard stamping and 
laughing outside, and, running to see what it meant, I was 
haiied by the jolly inquiry, " Come out skating, will you ? " 
Would I go ? Well, I just guessed I would, if I could. 
I opened the door, and about a dozen of my boy and girl 
friends came in. Mother said I could go, so I was soon 
with them, dressed in sweater and skating-cap, with my 
skates tucked under my arm. 

Up the road toward the lake we tramped, all in fine 
spirits. Twice we stopped and a few more ©f our school- 
mates joined us ; so that when we reached the lake we 

)SLING, age 13. 

numbered sixteen in all. Looking over the lake we saw 
a pretty sight. The moon shone directly over it, lighting 
the whole expanse of ice. 



66 5 

Skates were fastened, and then the fun began. First we 
played tag and had fine sport. Challenges to races rarely 
remained unaccepted, and helter-skelter over the lake we 
flew, making the hills echo with shouts. Many had tumbles, 
but no harm was done. 

When all thought it was time to start home, we heard 
the merry jingles of sleigh-bells ; and on reaching the road 
we found one of our neighbors with a big sleigh and team. 
He offered to take us to the town, and you can imagine 
that we wasted no time in accepting his offer. We all 
piled in and had the jolliest ride imaginable. 

When, after reaching home, I said to my chum who re- 
mained with me for the night, "Did n't we have just the 
finest time?" she turned .over on her pillow and mur- 
mured drowsily, " I should say we did." Then, suddenly, 
" Don't you think you can have lots more fun in the night 
than in the day ? I do." To which I heartily answered, 
" Yes, indeed." 



As parched flowers crave the blessed rain 

Which heaven sends, 
A noble soul, with aspirations high, 

Craves loving friends. 

True friends, of high ideals, and upright lives, 

And splendid dreams ; 
Who seek the beautiful in'art, and books, 

By forest streams. 

Whose friendship is as strong, as true as steel, 

Whate'er betide. 
Life's way is sweet indeed, if such as these 

Are by one's side! 



I LIKE daytime fun best because in winter all the fun 
comes after the tasks are done, and school is over. All 
the children go out to have some good times. Some of 
the [children get in groups, and when they have about 
twenty or thirty boys and girls, they all go to some large 
hill and settle down for a jolly good time. The boys like 
to make snowballs ; they think it is fun to throw them 
when all the other girls and boys are going down the hill 
all in one long line. Then when we all get tired of sledding 
and snowballing, we go out on the pond to skate, which I 
like to do very much. Some of the girls make their names 
on the ice and do many other "stunts " which amuse the 

In spring the fun is very amusing to every person. The 
weather is usually fine and you can play out of doors. 
You do not have to bother with heavy coats and heavy 
overshoes. In spring most of the fun is gathering wild 
flowers, such as violets, daisies, and buttercups, to put in 
bouquets for the hospital and other places, so as to make 
it more cheerful for those who cannot have the pleasure 
because of some ailment. We also play jacks. I like very 
much to run and jump on the green lawns in spring be- 
cause it is not so warm and you do not get overheated. 

In summer we have all kinds of games. I like tennis 
best. We play most in the morning and late in the after- 
noon. There are many other games and amusements 
which I will not speak of, except base-ball, the game the 
boys most enjoy. I like to sit under some shady tree and 
read a book. 

In autumn the fun is gathering nuts, going out for a 
hay ride, to walk through the woods among the autumn 
Vol. XXXVII.— 84. 

leaves and have lots of apples and help others gather more 
from the orchard so as to have an apple party. The most 
interesting game in autumn for the boys is foot-ball. 





I AM an only child, 

And that is why, you see, 

I have to have a make-b'lieve friend 
To come and play with me. 

My home is on a lonely farm, 
No other child lives near ; 

But that makes little difference, 
'Cause my shadow friend is here. 

My shadow friend has yellow curls, 
Her name is like a dream ; 

You '11 never guess it, so I '11 tell: 
Her name is Rosaline. 

Of course she 's just a make-believe, 
But then, it seems to me, 

That Rosa 's more sat'sfactory 
Than a real friend would be. 






I think my choice is evening fun. I wonder why ? 
ask myself. Well, I wonder why ? 



I Any one who likes to skate, coast, tell stories, or h'ive 
music, knows that the best time for these is in the evening. 
To skate in the moonlight on 
the smooth, glassy ice, is the 
most enjoyable sport I know. 

If you want fun, just go out 
at night — a clear one- — with your 
sled and take a coast. Is not that 

Tell stories in the evening (be- 
fore the lamps are lighted) and 
that is fun, too. 
Sing around the piano, or have music of 
some kind, and the best time to have it is in 
the evening. 

These are some of my reasons for liking 
evening fun. 


No. i. A list of those whose work would 
have been used had space permitted. 

No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles 
them to encouragement. 


Is n't there quite as much enjoyment to be had from 
a merry picnic excursion, or a tennis-party, as there 
is from a card-party, or even a dance? Most certainly; 
sometimes more. But don't you think there is more 
excitement in putting on one's best dress, and going out, 
just when you ought to be going to bed? I do; and 
is n't it nice to come home when the stars are twinkling, 
and, although you feel, " oh, so sleepy ! " and don't 
want to get up next morning, don't you enjoy it all the 
more ? I 'm sure you do. 


Margaret Olds 
Margaret E. Beakes 
Katharine Balderston 
Anne Grace Helfgott 
Violet R. Claxton 
Emily Blackham 
Evelyn G. Husted 
Fanny Tomlin Marburg 
Hazel Reid 
Virginia C. McGrath 
Charlotte Greene 

George M. Maynard 
Marguerite May 

Bertha Titus 
Laura Paris 
Jennie Spindler 
Edith M. Burdick 
Mildred Roberts 
Kathleen C. Brough 


Lorraine Ransom 
Harold Eaton Mood 
William Jerome Ruger 
Helen M. Perry- 
Florence H. Rogers 
Catherine C. Robie 
George A. Dooley 
Louis Tanner 
Dorothy Buell 
Eleanor A. Sykes 
Dorothy K. Ross 
Ada McAnn 

Edith Maurer 
Marcella Tibbitt 


Malcolm B. Carroll 
Anna Bemis Stearns 
Marion F. Hayden 
Doris F. Halman 
Dorothy Dawson 
Margaret Ellis Brown 
Helen Prescott 
Ethel Warren Kidder 
Marjorie Paret 
Dorothy W. Clarke 
Abby W. Cresson 
Lillie Garmany 

Margaret E. Howard 
Marjorie S. Harrington 
Dorothy Vance 
Elizabeth de L. B. 

William Baker 



Is n't a midnight picnic much more fun than just an or- 
dinary one ? Of course it is. When we want to have a 
bit of fun at school, why do we choose midnight to have 
our stolen supper-party, instead of in the afternoon, when 
we should not run half such a risk of being discovered ? 

"Why ? " you ask. Just because it is night-time that 
adds to the pleasure. The mystery of the night creeps 
into you, and adds romance to your feelings, and makes 
everything seem more enjoyable. 


Sheelah Kilroy 
Catharine K. 
Fritz Korb 

Anita Louise Grannis 
Mary Dendy 
Dorothy Lovatt 
Corinne Laney Flood 
Beatrice Maule 
Marie Maurer 
Estella Johnson 
Dorothy H. Hoskins 

Muriel Parsons 
Amelia N. Huger 
Edna Mood 
Otto S Jacobsen 
Gayrite Garner 
Walter W. Cox 
Helen Brault 
John Bradford Main 
Mary McKittrick 
Lucile Chapman 
Mary Low Ryce 
Mary Flaherty 

May Bowers 
Flora Cockrell 
Winifred Stoner 
Constance Tyrrell 
Mary de Lorme 

van Rossen 
Agnes Mackenzie 

Roscoe Allen 
Alice Louise Packard 
Mabel E. Edwards 
Ruth Pennington 




Eleanor Johnson 
Helen R. Morgan 
Elisabeth Eliot 


Winifred Ward 

Violet Michaels 
Banny Stewart McLean 
Doris Huestis 
Isabel D. Weaver 
Ethel Anna Johnson 
Anne Gebhart 

Dorothy Louise Dade 
Josephine Daniels 
Lily K. Westervelt 
Virginia Stuart Brown 
Theda Kenyon 
Mary Camp 
H. Herbert Dean 
Java Cochran 
Florence Pearse 
Isabel B. Huston 
Guliana Antinori 
Kathleen Carnie 
Maude T. Bergen 

E. Adelaide Hahn 
Edmund Campbell 
Muriel Anderson 
Marion P. Hallock 
Sherrill Kent 
Adelaide Fairbank 
Dora A. Iddings 
Helen K. Mull 
Fern Putsch 
Maude Downer 
Emile Kostal 
Elizabeth Thompson 
Lucy Blenkinsop 


Lois Donovan 
Katharine Habersham 
Ruth Starr 
Margaret White 
Conrad Garst 
Jeannette Armstrong 
Kathryn Pierce 
Mildred Bolles 
James P. McQuaide 
Margaret Tildsley 
Ruth S. Mann 
Gertrude Stegmann 
Sarah E. Elmer 


Beryl Morse 
Elizabeth Kendall 
Ethel A. Van Lieu 
Eleanor Safford 

Alfa Davis 
Robert Maclean 
Theresa R. Robbins 
Alice A. Hirst 
Ethel V. Martin 
Katharine H. Seligman 
Nellie Hagan 
L. William Quanchi 
Edward Godfrey 
Pauline Pick 
Theresa J. Jones 
Eleanor Powell 
Dorothy Getskay 
Neuville O. Fanning, 

Grace Wardwell 
Helen Hendrie 
Marshall Williamson 
Harry J. Burden 
Suzanne Bringier 
Violette A. Child 
Rosamond Gilbert 
Josephine Witherspoon 
Margaret Gray 
Marian Walter 


Mary Home 
Alan Laskey 
Helen de F. Griffin 
Laura Hill 

Elizabeth Gilrow 
William E. Fay 
Martha M. Seeley 
Sybil Emerson 
Julia M. Herget 
Jeanne Jacoby 
Ruth Ripley 
Gladys Wright 
Beatrice Jenkins 
Elizabeth H. Coley 
ThelmaN. Sanborn 
Frances M. Savage 
Helene E.Alexander 


Priscilla W. Smith 
Margaret Hirschay 
Alice M. McRae 
Ruth Goddard 
Clark Hopkins 
Lydia M. Scott 


Keith, Jr. 
Carl F. 




Francis C. 

C. Turner Jones 
Charles E. Kistler 
Sidney Shoemaker 


Marguerite D. Darkow 
Frieda Lescher 
Samuel H. Schaefer 
Frances C. Hamlet 
Joseph Trombetti 
Mary Green Mack 
David Berman 

Gladys Eustis 
Sidney B. McA. 

Mary Crocker 

Helen Beach 
Fannie Louise 

Des Jardins 
Arthur B. Morse 
Margaret Rayon 




Fhilip Sherman C. Smith 
Heltna A. Irvine 
Judii h Ames 

Alice Moore 
George B. 

Donald Blanke 
Kathryn Davis 
Beatrice Rossire 


A list of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and 
could not be entered for the competition : 

NO ADDRESS. Mildred B. Russell, Julius S. Bixler, Helen C. 
Webster, J. P. Foland, Roger Rouse, Mary G. Armstrong. 

WRONG SUBJECT. Frank Bockelmann, Dorothy Wheatley, 
James H. Tees, Birge W. Kinne. 

NOT INDORSED. Katherine J. Levy, Alice Thompson, Ethel 
Andrews, Eugene Bardwell, Louis Markowitz, J. Clark Breen, Dorothy 
Stabler, Ogden Bigelow, William W. Smith, Margaret Pierce, Ethel 
Rowe, Margery Howard, John Andrews, Jessie Samter, Mildred 
Chamberlin, Frances B. Ward. 

NO AGE. John L. Powers, Dorothy Griffiths, Christopher Grant 
La Farge, Agnes Gray, H. Weiner. 

LATE. Mabel J. Christensen, Minnie R. Ferraris, Elizabeth D. 

WRITTEN IN PENCIL. Mary Vance, Mildred Crouch, Helen 



The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges 
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings, 
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasion- 
ally, cash prizes of five dollars each to a gold-badge win- 
ner who shall, from time to time, again win first place. 

Competition No. 127 will close May 10 (for foreign 
members May 15). Prize announcements will be made 
and the selected contributions published in St. Nicholas 
for September. 

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. 
Subject, "Cheer" or "Cheerfulness." 

Prose. Story or article of not more than three hundred 
and fifty words. Subject, "A New Feature I Should 
Like to See in the St. Nicholas — and Why." 

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no 

blue prints or negatives. Subject, " A Springtime Scene." 

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. 

Subject, "A Useful Thing " or a Heading or Tail-piece for 


Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an- 
swer in full, and must be indorsed. 

Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set 
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas. 
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on 
the first page of the "Riddle-box." 

Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur- 
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. 
The prizes in the "Wild Creature Pho- 
tography" competition shall be in four 
classes, as follows : Prize, Class A, a gold 
badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, 
a gold badge and one dollar. Prize, Class 
C, a gold badge. Prize, Class D, a silver 
badge. But prize-winners in this com- 
petition (as in all the other competitions) will not receive 
a second gold or silver badge. 

Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re- 
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed 
and stamped envelop of tlie proper size to hold the manu- 
script, drawing, or photograph. 


Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not, 
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and 
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who 
has reached the age of eighteen years may enter the com- 

Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the 
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as 
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be 
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied, 
but wholly the work and idea of the -sender. If prose, the 
number of words should also be added. These things must 
not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itself— 
if manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, on the 
margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper 
only. A contributor may send but one contribution a 
month — not one of each kind, but one only. 
Address : The St. Nicholas League, 

Union Square, New York. 





Carlsbad, New Mexico. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I thought I would write and tell 
you something about this country. "Our people" live 
way up in the cool, green, pine-covered mountains. Our 
people (about two hundred) have a happy life up here 
away from the troubles of the earth. The country is 
rough until you get out on top, and then it is a smooth, beau- 
tiful valley. We get our mail twice a week and we girls 
and boys dearly love to see it coming. We have some 
large, beautiful caves up here and people have said that if 
they were fully explored they would equal the Mammoth 
Cave of Kentucky. They have all kinds of colored rocks 
inside, and there are rooms after rooms, until you can't 
count them. There are also lakes of the clearest ice-cold 
water. I liked "The Lass of the Silver Sword." I do 
hope that there will be a sequel to it, and Jean and Douglas 
and Carol and Court will marry. I am thirteen years old. 
Well, I will close, wishing many happy and prosperous 
years to the jolly old St. Nicholas. 

Your devoted reader, 

Eula Irene Thayer. 

Staten Island, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas: You have been given me as a 
Christmas present for three or four years. I like St. 
Nicholas better than any other magazine I have ever 
read. I am very much interested in " The Young Wizard 
of Morocco." I love to read the different letters in the 

I want to tell you about my Valentine party. We had 
it up in Scarsdale in a big house. The table was decorated 
with big valentines around a big red lamp. Attached to 
the valentines were long red ribbons and on the end a 
Cupid for a place card. We had sixteen children and the 
games we played were lots of fun. We had hidden a hun- 
dred red hearts which the children looked for, and then we 
played " In and Out the Windows," " Stage-coach," and 
a lot of other games. 

I am living down on Staten Island this winter and miss 
my little friends in New York very much. 

My mother always took you when she was a little girl, 
and even now finds some of the stories interesting. 

I am very sorry that Miss Du Bois stopped "The Lass 
of the Silver Sword " because I was very much interested 
in it. I think " ' The Young Railroaders' Series " is fine. 

The drawings and poetry in St. Nicholas League I 
like very much. 

Your loving reader, 

Elizabeth Stead (age 10). 

Elizabeth and Eula and a great many other readers who 
have written us enthusiastic letters about "The Lass of 
the Silver Sword " will be glad to see that a sequel to 
that story begins in this number. It is called " The League 
of the Signet-Ring." 

Nassau, Bahamas. 
My dear St. Nicholas: I live in the West Indies in a 
place called Nassau, and I wish to tell you some funny 
little things. One is about the black boys and the others 
about our donkey, Jenny. 

When the steamer comes in from New York, the little 
black boys dive for pennies. 

One day when we went for a drive in our donkey-cart 
we met two black men, one on the right side of the road 
and the other on the left, and each of them had a bundle 

of wood on his head. The donkey was frightened and 
jumped to one side of the road and nearly upset the car- 
riage and all. One day when we were at breakfast the 
donkey put his head inside the door and made a funny 
noise as if he was singing, and Father shut the door. One 
day a black woman came into the yard to bring some bread, 
and the donkey chased her all over the yard. I must close 
now because my letter is getting too long. 
Your loving reader, 

Katrina Young (age 10). 

Sharon, Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I was spending the afternoon with 
one of my friends when I first heard that my verses had 
won a silver badge. One of the " Seven Leaguers " tele- 
phoned to me and asked me to guess what I had won in 
St. Nick. When I found that I had really won a silver 
badge, I did n't know what to do. It came yesterday. It 
is beautiful and I shall wear it all the time. I know it 
will make me try all the harder to win a gold one. 

I enjoy the St. Nicholas very much and am especially 
interested in the League and Mr. Gilman's stories. Mr. 
Gilman preached in Sharon recently and I went to hear 

Thanking you again for my badge and wishing you 
great success in the future, I am, 

Alice Louise Ackard. 


Dear St. Nicholas : I enjoy reading you very much. I 
am a little cripple and cannot run and play like other 
children, so I read ? good deal. I like the stories in you, 
but most of all the stories of Betty. I have not been 
able to go to school regularly till this year. I get along 
nicely and I have such a fine teacher. 

Your admiring reader, 

Frances Forest (age n). 

Montreal, Canada. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Although I have never written" to 
you before, I have always read the Letter-Box through, 
and as you seemed to have so few Canadian correspond- 
ents, I thought that I would write to you. 

We had had beautiful weather until a couple of days 
ago, when it grew bleak, and to-day it is pouring. I 
have had, however, such lovely tobogganing and skeeing 
that I have nothing to grumble at. 

We have taken your lovely magazine ever since 1899, 
and Mother thinks it is the nicest book, both for children 
and " grown-ups," that has ever been published. 

We have two dogs, a black one called Ovo, who is one 
year old, and a brown one named Roy, who is eight years 
old. They are both cocker-spaniels. 

I have three sisters, two of whom are away, and they all 
read and enjoy dear old St. Nicholas. 

Your loving well-wisher, 

Alison Aird (age 13). 

Syracuse, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Although I have taken you for 
three years, this is my first letter to you. 

I enjoy your pages ever and ever so much and I believe 
they are just as interesting to Papa and Mama as when they 
were children themselves, and used to read them then. 




I go to school in the morning and in the afternoon pre- 
pare my lessons for next day's recitations. A good many 
of your readers probably do the same. They must know, 
as I do, that it is very difficult to keep one's mind on 
Caesar's wars and geometrical problems when a few inches 
from the elbow are the stories and " Puzzle-Box " of St. 
Nicholas, which are very much more interesting. 

Hoping that this letter is not too long, I remain, 
Your loving reader, 

Clara M. Titcomb (age 14). 


I AWOKE last night from a dream, my dear, 
And went to the window with never a fear. 
I opened the window and peered through the screen, 
And wondered at seeing all over the green 
A host of bright fairies, such wonderful things — 
They had the most beautiful, shimmering wings, — 
Their clothes were all made of violets sweet, 
And they all had the tiniest, daintiest feet. 
Next morning after the dew had left, 
I saw their May-poles to the right and left, 
That looked like spider-webs sunbeam swept 
Where, on the rocks and the thorns, they had slept. 
Emily Pierpont Stickney (age 9). 

Duluth, Minn. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am going to tell you about my 
little cousin ; he is about two years old. One day when 
we were down to his house the older people were talking 
about strikes and strikers, and they were telling what they 
would do if they were the managers of the railroads. And 
Grandpa asked my cousin what he would do if he were 
manager. And the little two-year-old replied: " Put him 
in the sink and pour water in his ear." 
Your interested reader, 

Vera Lindahl. 

Bournemouth, England. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I want to tell you about a week we 
spent in London at the beginning of the year. 

It is one hundred and eight miles from here to London. 
We motored up, staying all night at Winchester, then start- 
ing at eleven the next morning; we had lunch at Guild- 
ford and reached our destination about a quarter past 
three in the afternoon. The hotel we had lunch at in 
Guildford is very old, and the floors are all uneven. It 
reminded me of walking on board ship. 

We arrived in London on Sunday, and on Monday 
morning we all went to Harrod's and bought some things. 
In the afternoon we went to see the Drury Lane Panto- 
mime, "Aladdin." On Tuesday afternoon we went to 
see " Peter Pan." It was lovely. I never liked anything 
so much. On Thursday we saw " Alice in Wonderland." 
On Friday, " Pinkie and the Fairies." On Saturday, 
" Where Children Rule." They were all perfectly lovely, 
but the two I liked best were " Peter Pan " and " Where 
Children Rule." I never saw such young children act- 
ing before. The queen of the fairies in " Pinkie and 
the Fairies," could not have been any older than six, and 
in " Where Children Rule " there were two little girls not 
more than seven or eight. Miss Pauline Chase took the 
part of Peter. 

We left London Sunday morning and got to Bourne- 
mouth Monday afternoon. We have often motored to 
London in five hours and a half, but Mother thought it 
was better to take two days, so that I would not get tired. 

I have taken you for five years, and I do not know what 
I would do without you. 

It will be three years in June since we left Canada. We 
were going home last summer, but I got ill, so we coul<" ! 
not go; but we are going next summer if nothing hap 
pens. Your loving reader, 

Margaret Osborne. 

Philadelphia, Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I love the magazine very much. I 
got you for Christmas. My sister took you before I did, 
and now I am taking you and love you so much ! 

My sister has a dog, its name is Chinkie ; it is a very 
funny name. Chinkie really seems to act more like my 
dog than my sister's, because she follows me all over and 
we are such good friends. One Sunday I was going to 
church and she was following me. I tried to send her 
back, but she simply would not go. I did everything I 
could to make her go home again, but it was no use. She 
just kept on and would not go back, in spite of all I could 
do or say. So when I got to church she followed me up 
the steps and was going in, but the man at the door shut 
it and made her go away. I thought she would go home, 
but when I came out she was sitting there, and then 
followed me home. I think she is a very intelligent dog 

I will close my letter now, looking forward with great 
pleasure to the next number. I remain as ever, 
Your devoted reader, 

Katharine Putnam (age 11). 

Berkeley, Cal. 
Dear St. Nicholas : We never have snow out here at 
all and I have only seen it about five times. I have good 
times other ways though. My aunt has a big wheat-field 
in front of her house. When it was planted last month 
the quail came around. They are certainly very beautiful 

One day we counted over one hundred and twenty-five. 
My sister and I have lots of fun together. Papa has two 

We are going to have a kermess here pretty soon. 
Mama is chairman. It is for the Anti-Tuberculosis So- 

I am in the seventh grade at school. I like French and 
history and grammar best. Sometimes I make candy for 
my teachers. I like my arithmetic teacher best. Berkeley 
is a very pretty place. 

With every good wishes for success from 

Amy H. REQUA(age 13). 

Chicago, III. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am very fond of your magazine. 
We have every number that you have issued (from 1874 
up to date). Your stories are fine. I especially like your 
serial stories. We have many books at my home. I 
could say they are better than our best because if I once 
get started reading a book I am not satisfied until I finish. 
By trying to finish a book quickly I lose the idea of the 
author. But in the St. Nicholas I cannot read but so 
much of a story and have a chance to think about it. We 
have had all our magazines bound in half-year volumes. I 
have much interest in looking over back numbers. I 
should thank the St. Nicholas for one special reason : 
it has started me collecting stamps, and now I have 
a stamp collection that I am proud of, — considering the 
length of time I have been collecting. I have been helped 
by the stamp page very much. I am eleven years old, 
although I am in seventh grade in one of our grammar 

Truly yours, 

"Rob-in Hood." 


Concealed Word-square, i. Rapid. 2. Aroma. 3. Polar. 4. 
Image. 5. Dares. 

Numerical Enigma. " The greatest of faults, I should say, is to be 
conscious of none." 

Novel Acrostic. Initials, Leonidas; third row, Spartans. Cross- 
words: 1. Lessen. 2. Employ. 3. Omahas. 4. Normal. 5. Intact. 
6. Dearth. 7. jEneas. 8. System. Charade. Man-hat-tan. 

Box Puzzle. Back: 1. Girl. 2. Idea. 3. Rend. 4. Lady. Side: 
1. Lady. 2. Area. 3. Dear. 4. Yard. Front: 1. Yard. 2. Ague. 
3. Rule. 4. Deed. 1 to 2, Yard. 

Illustrated Numerical Enigma. " Fortune brings in some boats 
that are not steered." 

Diagonal and Word-square. Diagonal, April. Square: 1. 
Ashes. 2. Spelt. 3. Herse. 4. Elsie. 5. Steel. 

Lamp Puzzle. Upper Square: 1. Too. 2. O'er. 3. Ore. Dia- 
mond : 1. E. 2. Ore. 3. Ovate. 4. Erasure. 5. Etude. 6. Ere. 
7. E. Lower Square: 1. Hem. 2. Eva. 3. Man. Upper Rhom- 
boid, Left: 1. Oho. 2. Two. 3. Tie. Right: 1. Era. 2. Eld. 3. 
Ern. Lower Rhomboid, Left: 1. She. 2. Lee. 3. Dot. Right: 
1. Emu. 2. Art. 3. Nod. 

Musical Primal Acrostic. My violin. 1. Monochord. 2. Yodel. 
3. Viol. 4. Instrument. 5. Orchestra. 6. Lyre, 7. Italy. 8. 

Double Diagonal. From 1 to 2, Spain ; 3 to 4, Italy: Cross-words: 
1. Sinai. 2. Spite. 3. Slave. 4. Claim. 5. Yearn. 

To our Puzzlers: Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 10th of each month, and should be 
addressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the February Number were received before February roth from C. S. M. and R. V. M. — Sefer Greene — 
Morgan Piatt Underwood — Alida H. Moss — Myers McClure — Herbert A. Cohn — Frances Mclver — Edna Meyle — "Marcapan" — Katharine 
Wenzel — Margaret Laughlin — Harry Guthmann — Frank T. Black — " Midwood " — I. Whinery — Marian Shaw — Harry Fischer — Judith Ames 
Marsland— Jo and I — Agnes L. Thomson — "The Quartette" — Marguerite Booth — Helen Tyler — Edna Postlethwaite — Duncan Scarborough 
— Arnold F. Muhlig — •" Queenscourt." 

Answers to Puzzles in the February Number were received before February 10th from J. Work, 2 — E. Sturges, 2 — A. R. Kennedy, 4 — ■ 
E. J. Parsons, 2— Katharine Skinner, 10 — E. Strieker, 4 — K. Pease, 2 — M. M. Weston, 4 — H. L. Sargent, 5 — F. Neave, 3 — R. Cole, 2— A. 
Poulin, Jr., 6— S. Burke, 7— Ford, 2— M. Hunsicker, 8— H. B. Bush, 10. 

So many sent answers to one puzzle that, for lack of space, these cannot be acknowledged. 


Unto my Jirst a letter add, 

My second you will find. 
I 'm sure that third fourth a good meal 

When first the frst third dined. 
My first and fourth together mean 

Existing in the mind. 
A tendon you will see when second 

With third has been combined. 
My syllables equal just half 

Of my fourth, 't is soon divined. 
To whole that third, first second dwell 

Would really be unkind. 

E. ADELAIDE hahn (Honor Member). 


When the following words have been rightly guessed and 
written one below another, the initials will spell the name 
of an author, and another row of letters will spell the name 
of one of his books. 

Cross-words: i. To liken. 2. A festival day. 3. To 
steal off and secrete one's self. 4. Swaying backward and 
forward. 5. The lee side. 6. Jealous. 7. Honest. 8. 
A charge for the use of a dock. 9. To examine. 10. 
Possessing ability. 11. Detaining. 12. Outlay. 13. To 
relate. 14. To settle down. 

STANLEY DAGGETT (League Member). 


All the words described contain the same number of let- 
ters. When rightly guessed and written one below 
another, the central letters will spell the name of a Scot- 
tish estuary. 

Cross-words: i. A number. 2. A human being des- 
titute of ordinary intelligence. 3. A large, roomy boat 
for passengers or goods. 4. An aquatic animal, valued for 
its fur. 5. A kind of tea. 6. Coverings for the feet. 7. 

A very short space of time. 8. Fastens securely. 9. 
Places in which water is found. 10. An aromatic plant 
used for seasoning. 11. A thicket planted as a fence. 12. 
A shout expressing joy. 

dale warren (League Member). 


I. Upper, Left-hand Diamond: i. In Norse. 2. 
A saddle horse. 3. Walking-sticks. 4. A nine-sided 
figure. 5. Commenced. 6. A child. 7. In Norse. 

II. Upper, Right-hand Diamond: i. In Norse. 2. 
A pronoun. 3. Abhors. 4. One who nettles. 5. To 
rent again. 6. To place. 7. In Norse. 

III. Central Diamond: i. In Norse. 2. A nega- 
tive connective. 3. Designates. 4. A nominator. 5. To 
rejuvenate. 6. To scatter seed. 7. In Norse. 

IV. Lower, Left-hand Diamond: 1. In Norse. 2. 
A baronet. 3. Wise men. 4. One who trifles. 5. To 
loosen. 6. Kind. 7. In Norse. 

V. Lower, Right-hand Diamond: i. In Norse. 
2. Hostility. 3. Females. 4. A rover. 5. To let again. 
6. Meshes of twine. 7. In Norse. 

cecile leona decker (League Member). 





The answer to the above rebus is an old saying that should 
be heeded by spendthrifts. 


My initials spell the surname of a well-known author, 
and my finals spell the title of one of his books. 

Cross-words (of equal length): i. To transfer from 
one ship or conveyance to another. 2. A queen of the 
Amazons. 3. Love. 4. Disputed. 5. The victor over 
the Alabama. 6. A pleasure trip. 7. The act of reced- 
ing or withdrawing. 8. Part of the name of Dante. 9. 
Long Turkish knives. 

helen carloss (League Member). 


All of the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below 
another, the initials and the fourth row of letters will each 
spell the surname of a man who has been much talked 
about, and also a title by which each has been called. 

Cross-words: i. One dearly beloved. 2. Vacation 
trips. 3. Inhumanly. 4. What toques are sometimes 
called. 5. Removing or turning out. 6. Taking out 
stitches, 7. Glues together. 8. Acquires. 9. To intrude. 
10. A kind of locust that is heard during the latter part of 
the summer. 

Arnold F. MUHLIG (Honor Member). 


{Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

All the words described contain the same number of let- 
ters. When rightly guessed and written one below another, 
the zigzag (beginning with the upper, left-hand letter and 
ending with the lower, right-hand letter) will spell two 
familiar words. 

Cross-words: i. Thick. 2. To exercise with the 
sword or foil. 3. Delicate trimmings. 4. A leader's staff. 
5. Finely ground meal. 6. Unclouded. 7. Jaunty. 8. 
Foolish. 9. A vegetable. 10. To join. 11. A country 
in Asia. 12. Desolate. 13. Haste. 



{Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

All the words described contain the same number of let- 
ters. When the eighteen words described are rightly 
guessed and written one below another, take the first letter 
of the first word, the second letter of the second word; the 
first letter of the third, the second of the fourth, and so on. 
These letters will spell the name of a great writer. Another 
row of letters, reading straight down, will spell one of his 

Cross-words: i. Made of wheat. 2. Transgressing. 
3. A scheme for the distribution of prizes by chance. 4. 
Inundated. 5. Smoothing with a hot iron. 6. Members 
of a certain profession. 7. A slender tower on a mosque. 

8. Stupid and dull. 9. Delays. 10. A small gallery pro- 
jecting from a house. 11. A piece of timber in a ship 
laid over the keel. 12. Under. 13. A pupil. 14. Epic 
poems. 15. Fit to be eaten. 16. A chief officer. 17. To 
put down. 18. Occupants. 



My first is in chair, but not in stool; 

My second, in left, but not in right ; 

My third is in reign, but not in rule ; 

My fourth is in run, but not in flight; 

My fifth is in yarn, but not in tale; 

My sixth is in look, but not in see ; 

My seventh is in post, but not in mail; 

My eighth is in gnat, but not in bee; 

My ninth is in high, but not in low; 

My tenth is in fat, but not in thin ; 

My eleventh, in line, but not in row ; 

My twelfth is in gold, but not in tin ; 

My thirteenth, in link, but not in chain ; 

My fourteenth, in soldier, but not in fighter; 

My last is in snow, but not in rain. 

My whole is a famous American writer. 

ANNIE REED SLACK (League Member). 


* * * * * 

* * * * * 


* * * * * 

* * * * * 

* * * * * 

T *P * "P •!• 

* * * * * 

* * * * * 

* * * * * 


* * * * * 

* * * * * . . 

■ .*****. 

. . * * * * * 

*****. . 

. . *****. . 



* * * * * 

* * * * * 


* * * * * 

* * * * * 



* * * * * 



Upper Squares. Left to right. I. 1. A quadruped. 
2. Mistake. 3. To corrupt with money. 4. A bird. 5. 
A place of combat. II. I. Tumult. 2. To lessen. 3. 
To wash. 4. An anesthetic. 5. Looks at obliquely. 
III. 1. A bird. 2. Pertaining to Arius. 3. A very large 
person. _ 4. A spear. 5. To go in. 

Middle Squares. IV. 1. To temper. 2. A sewing 
instrument. 3. A misty spot in the sky. 4. Extracted. 
5. To declare. 6. A commander. V. 1. Dignified. 2. 
A number. 3. To conquer. 4. Reluctant. 5. A tor- 
mentor. 6. Goes in. 

Lower Squares. VI. 1. To sing. 2. Fragrance. 3. 
Dresses. 4. Signs. 5. A rope with a running noose. 
VII. 1. A gun. 2. Thoughts. 3. Dreads. 4. A grub. 
5. To try. VIII. 1. A kind of fur. 2. Once "more. 3. 
Founded. 4. A term denoting homage. 5. Finished. 
George w. ballantine, jr. (Honor Member). 




is every day while the 

mother lives, and as 

long afterwards as her 

children survive her. 

For over one hundred 

years, we have endeavored 

to help the mother inculcate 

cleanly habits to produce a 

healthy skin. 

The use of Pears' Soap 

prevents the irritability, redness 

and blotchy appearance from which 

many children suffer, and prevents 

unsightly disease which so baffles 

dermatologists, and hinders the proper physical 

and moral development of the child. 

Pears' Soap produces a matchless complexion which 
not only gives natural beauty but a matchless comfort 

f§PP§f ^ the body 

Health, beauty and happiness follow the use of 
Pears' Soap. The mothers of today can well follow 
the example of the last six generations and have their 
memory revered by teaching their children to 


Pears' Soap 

Mother's Day is to be observed all over the United States, the second Sunday in May, to 
honor and uplift motherhood, and to give comfort and happiness to the best mother who 
ever lived — your mother. In loving remembrance of your mother, do some distinct act of 
kindness — either by visit or letter. A white flower (perfectly white carnation) is the emblem 
to be worn by you. Send one to the sick or unfortunate in homes, hospitals or prisons 


"All righis secured." 

May 1910 




As a drink, Welch's 
Grape Juice has no equal 

It is a product of nature, not a concoction 
or an artificial product. The rich flavor of 
luscious Concords is as effectively retained 
in the glass bottle under the Welch seal as 
in the grape berry sealed by nature. 


Grape Juice 

should be in every home. Serve plain, or 
with carbonated water, or in lemonade. 
Use it in making a punch or dessert. Order 
a few bottles from your dealer. 

If your dealer doesn't keep Welch's, send $3.00 
for trial dozen pints, express prepaid east of Omaha. 
Sample 3-oz. bottle by mail, 10 cents. Booklet of 
40 delicious ways of using Welch's Grape Juice, free. 

The Welch Grape Juice Company, Westfield, N. Y. 


Durability and Beauty 

have made this ware famous for many years. 
It affords the longest service 
and satisfaction — 

The heaviest triple plate is guaranteed by 
the trade mark 

1847 ROGERS BROS.trVle 

Sold by leading dealers. Send for catalogue " S-5 " showing designs 
MERIDEN BRITANNIA CO., Meriden, Conn. Now York 

(International Silver Co., Successor) 


San Francisco 


A Good Grubstake 

As a Nourishing Food, 


has a condensed strength unequalled, and it keeps indefinitely. 

A mountain Burro can pack enough Grape-Nuts to keep three 
men well-fed for three months. 

It 's not quantity, but quality that makes this possible. Every 
crumb of Grape-Nuts carries its quota of Brain, Brawn and Bone 

"There 's a Reason" 

Postum Cereal Company, Ltd., Battle Creek, Michigan, U. S. A. 

St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. to I. 

Time to hand in answers is up May 10. Prizes awarded in July number. 

Competition No. ioi 

Number three in the "Model House" 
Advertising Competition is "A Model 
Drawing-Room and Hall." Take the 
outline shown above and enlarge it so 
that it measures g inches in height. Then 
put in furniture, bric-a-brac, rugs, etc., 
from advertising illustrations you find in 
any magazine. 

Recognizing that every additional ar- 
ticle in a room adds to the difficulty of 
arrangement — and is also a mark of the 
industry of the competitor, the prizes will 
be awarded those who make the "best- 
looking" room, which contains the most 
articles arranged in the most natural 
manner. Preserve the perspective by 
placing large objects near the front, and 
the smaller ones in the back of the room. 
Give a list of the articles you have in the 
picture — together with the names of the 
firms from whose advertisements they 
were cut — and the magazines in which 
you found them. All the members of 
your family may help you — any reader 
of St. NICHOLAS of any age may par- 
ticipate — the more the merrier. Let every- 
body send in a "Model Drawing-Room."' 

(See also 

The prizes and conditions are as follows : 

One First Prize, $5.00. 
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each. 
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each. 
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each. 

1 . This competition is open freely to all who may 
desire to compete, without charge or consideration 
of any kind. Prospective contestants need not be 
subscribers for St. Nicholas in order to compete for 
the prizes offered. 

2. In the upper left-hand corner of your paper, 
give name, age, address, and the number of this 
competition (101). Judges prefer that the sheet 
be not larger than j)4 x 10 inches. 

3. Submit answers by May 10, 1910. Use 
ink. Do not inclose stamps. 

4. Do not inclose requests for League badges or 
circulars. Write separately for these if you wish 
them, addressing ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE. 

5. Be sure to comply with these conditions if 
you wish to win prizes. 

6. Address answers: Advertising Competition 
No. 101, St. Nicholas League, Union Square, 
New York, N. Y. 


Advertising Editor. 

page 10.) 


About New Clothes 
For Women and Children 

YoiTcan now have new dresses for yourself and the children 
in all the latest shades and styles, and at little expense with the 
aid of 

Diamond Dyes 

Perhaps you have some last season's dresses that are too good 
to throw away. Perhaps they are a little soiled, or faded, or 
the color is out of style. 

It's as easy as washing - a handkerchief to give them hand- 
some, new shades with Diamond Dyes. And Diamond Dyes 
will make them look like new, too. 

And not only look like new, but the chemical action of the 
dyes will add life to the material and give it longer wear. 

You may have tried dyeing some old material before, and 
were not satisfied. But it was n't Diamond Dyes you used. 
Diamond Dyes are far superior to any in the world, and give 
perfectly splendid results. 

After trying them once, you '11 use them with pleasure on 
many things you have in the home that seem too good to throw 

There are a thousand uses for Diamond Dyes and each one 
will save you money. 

You Take No Risk With Diamond Dyes 

You can use Diamond Dyes and be sure of the results. You 
can use them with safety on the most expensive piece of goods 
— and there is no danger of the goods becoming spotted or 
streaked, or harmed in any way. 

Faded hosiery, silk gloves, veils, and feathers can be made 
like new with their use. 

Portieres, couch covers, table covers, ribbons, sashes, and 
trimmings of all kinds are given new life and added beauty. 

And for dyeing dress goods, faded garments, skirts, waists, 
and suits, Diamond Dyes are invaluable, both in economy and 

There is no other dye made that will do the work of Diamond 
Dyes. There is no other dye that you can use with such per- 
fect safety to the material. 


are "The Standard of the World" and no other dye is so per- 
fect in formula, positive in action, certain in result. 


Diamond Dyes are the Standard of the world and always give perfect 
results. You must be sure that you get the real Diamond Dyes and 
the kind of Diamond Dyes adapted to the article you intend to dye. 

Beware of imitation** of Diamond Dyes. Imitator* who 
make only one kind of'dye, claim that their imitations will 
color Wool, Silk, or Cotton ("all fabrics") equally well. This 
claim is false, because no dye that will give the finest re- 
sults on Wool, Silk, or other animal fibres, can be used suc- 
cessfully for dyeing Cotton, Linen, or other vegetable fibres. 
For this reason we make two kinds of Diamond Dyes, name- 
ly : Diamond Dyes for Wool, and Diamond Dyes for Cotton. 

Diamond Dyes for Wool should not be used for coloring Cot- 
ton, Linen, or Mixed Goods, as they are especially adapted for 
Wool. Silk, or other animal fibres, which take up the dye 

Diamond Dyes for Cotton are especially adapted for Cotton, Linen, 
or other vegetable fibres, which take up the dye slowly. 

"Mixed Goods," also known as "Union Goods," are made chiefly 
of either Cotton, Linen, or other vegetable fibres. For this rea- 
son our Diamond Dyes for Cotton are the best dyes made for 
these goods. 

r\* lv ^. tw 1 r^vo Annual PVaa Send us your name and address (be sure to mention your dealer's name and tell us 

L/lo.mOriQ l-/yC /\nilU3.1 rice whether he sells Diamond Dyes) and we will send you a copy of the famous Diamond 

Dye Annual, a copy of the Direction Book, and 36 samples of dyed cloth, all FREE. Address 




You chose all kinds of subjects; 
and some of your papers showed a 
good deal of originality and ex- 
treme care. 

The First Prize winner had a 
"Message from Mars," which ad- 
vised the people of the world to use 
"Fairy Soap." More than one 
half of the page was painted black 
and on it white stars and a moon 
and a naming comet appeared. 
Across this sky, written in white 
ink, was the message from Mars. 

The criticism which this evoked 
was that the name of the advertised 
article did not stand out — in fact 
was hidden. While it is all right 
to awaken curiosity, and even in 
some cases to hide the name of the 
goods — for the ideal advertisement 
such a method should not be 
adopted. However, the work was 
beautifully done and the idea was 
by far the cleverest submitted. 

In the "Knight's Move Puzzle," 
which was based on Competition 
No. 92, one of the second prize 
winners made a very attractive pa- 
per ; while a young man, winner 
of one of the third prizes, won it 
by a design for a page advertisement 
of St. Nicholas — which was well 
laid out and had bright alliterations, 
such as "Serial Stories, Tales of 

(See also 

Travel, Notes on Nature, Interest- 
ing Illustrations, Camera Contests, 
Helps for the Home," etc., the 
first letter of each line spelling 
" St. Nicholas." Had his design 
been a little more carefully mounted 
it would have given one of the 
second prize winners a hard strug- 
gle for the supremacy; but, as 
usual, the bright idea, plus the evi- 
dence of painstaking care in details, 
won the prizes. 

Below are the names of the win- 
ners : 

One First Prize of $5.00: 
Frank M. Sleeper. 

Two Second Prizes of ' $J.00 each: 

Elisabeth R. Bevier. 
Charlotte Knapp. 

Three Third Prizes of $2.00 each: 

Bancroft Sitterly. 

Arthur Blue. 

F. Clemens Moffett. 

Ten Prizes of $ 1 .00 each: 

Hazel Little. 
Mary E. Aplin. 
Elizabeth Virginia Kelly. 
Dorothy Stables. 
Cassius M. Clay, Jr. 
Katherine Inez Bennett. 
Helen Wood. 
Ellen Moore Burdett. 
Dorothy Atwell. 
Kathleen S. Rutter. 

page 8.) 

HONOLULU ?r.?5Eg $110 

5 1-2 dayH from San Francisco 

The splendid twin-screw steamer Sierra (1(1,000 tons displacement) 
sails from San Francisco May 7, May 28, June 18, and every 21 days. 
Round trip tickets good for 4 mos. Honolulu, the most attrac- 
tive spot on entire world tour. Volcano Kilauea now unusually 
active. Line to Tahiti and New Zealand. S. S. Mariposa, 
connecting with Union Line, sails May 21, June 29, etc. Tahita and 
back (24 days) $125. New Zealand (Wellington) $246.25, 1st class, 
round trip, 6 mos. Book Now. 
Oceanic S. S. Co., 673 Market St., San Francisco, Cal. 

Spare your purse while pleasing your friends 

A Miniature Monkey Wrench of Perfect Design 
and Workmanship. Price 25c. each, postpaid 

Do not send coin. It is liable to loss in the 
mails. Send stamps, postal note, or check 


130 East 20th Street 

New York 



Quaker Oats 

is the one best food for all 

IT is the one great builder of body and 
brain that is within the reach of every 
purse and which gives the biggest 
return in vigor, health and strength. 

It makes no difference who is to eat it; infant, 
laborer, athlete or aged person; it makes no 
difference whether he is wealthy or poor; it matters 
not if his health is delicate or robust. 

Served with sugar and milk (or cream") it pleases 
your palate and makes a most satisfactory and 
strengthening dish. 

Eat more Quaker Oats! You'll be in all the 
better health for doing so. 

Regular size package 10c; also in the 
larger size family packages and in her- 
metically sealed tins for hot climates. 

"pie Quaker O a * s (on\pany 


The 10c price does not apply in the extreme South 
and the far West. 





THE three-cent stamp of Haiti issued in 1893 is very 
similar to the stamp of the same value issued in 
1896, and the question of distinction between them is 
frequently raised. The design of the latter issue is 
simply reengraved from the old plates in use for the 
earlier issue. In all the values, with the exception of 
the three-cent, there are differences in color which en- 
able the collector to readily distinguish between the 
two plates. In the three-cent value the distinction is 
not so easy. The colors are described in the catalogue- 
as "lilac-gray" and "gray lilac"; this in itself is 
rather confusing, and, as both exist in many shades, is 
no real guide. There are, however, other ways by 
which the two plates may be distinguished from each 
other. A careful study will reveal many differences in 
the design. If one has any value in both colors, a 
glance at the letter "c" in cent will reveal one of the 
most marked variations. In the older plate the ends of 
the letter turn markedly toward each other, as if about 
to form a complete circle, or letter "o "; in the later 
plate, the ends scarcely turn toward each other at all. 

Should the collector have only one stamp, and noth- 
ing with which to compare it, the two issues can still be 
readily identified. Look closely just to the left of the 
figure of value in the upper right-hand corner. If you 
see three lines of shading both in the space bearing the 
word " cent " and also in the scroll beneath it, then the 
stamp is from the 1893 plate. In the 1896 issue there 
are only two lines above, and four lines in the scroll. 

In the entire sheet some rows of stamps have a period 
after cent, and some do not. It is therefore possible 
for one in this country to get a set of the stamps in pairs, 
one stamp with and the other without the period. 


THE oft-discussed question as to the value of condi- 
tion seems likely never to be ended. The editor 
recently read an exceedingly interesting argument on 
this subject, from the standpoint of condition versus 
empty spaces in the album of a collector. Which is 
better ? There are, of course, many stamps practically 
unobtainable in perfect condition. Most of the older 
issues of many German States were not made with a 
view to stamp-collecting. In those early days cancela- 
tion was for the purpose of preventing a second use of 
the stamps, and was often done too effectively to please 
the present-day collector. It has been suggested that 
citalogues should quote prices for the earlier stamps in 
v.irying conditions,; as "fine,'' "good," "average," 
and " poor." Such a pricing would put many stamps 
within the financial reach of the average collector, and 
would tend to give a value to such as are not in perfect 
condition, which yet well represent the specimen de- 
sired. An imperforate copy may not have wide mar- 
gins on all four sides ; slight tears may be in evidence, 
or a thinning on the back may exist without destroying 
the coloring or seriously injuring the design. 


THE United States has discontinued the printing 
of the $2 and $5 denominations. There is no 
longer much, if any, need of these high values, because 
of the reduction of rates in letter postage to many foreign 

countries. The higher values of British Colonials will 
undoubtedly be less frequently used for postage. Many 
of these, such as the ^10 of Rhodesia, and the ^5 of 
Zululand have always been scarce. There never was 
any need of their issue so far as postal requirements 
were concerned. While many of the high value stamps 
of some of the larger nations of the world are being 
discontinued or falling into disuse, it is interesting to 
learn that Brazil is contemplating issuing new values 
to the current set of official stamps, namely, 20,000, 
50,000, 100,000, 500,000, and 1,000,000 reis. In the 
face of these formidable figures it is well to remember 
that 1000 reis is really not much more than twenty-five 
cents. Perhaps these high values are to be used simi- 
larly to the old United States periodicals. The entire 
official correspondence for each day could be weighed 
and postage prepaid upon it as a whole. The few 
stamps needed daily would be entered in a ledger and 
canceled there. 


^T 'T^HERE is a good deal of truth in your remark that 
^^ A the standard stamp catalogues describe many 
stamps in such comparative terms that it is difficult "to 
tell which one has unless one has both! " The editor 
will try to describe the two Brazilian stamps for you. 
While the most characteristic difference between the 
200 reis of 1881 and of 1882, when both are before one, 
is the larger head, yet there are other easily seen dis- 
tinctions. Encircling the head is a row of dots or 
pearls. In the 1881 issue the frames surrounding the 
figures of value just touch this row of pearls, but do 
not impinge upon it. In the 1882 issue, on the con- 
trary, these frames cross the row and obliterate some of 
the pearls. C.The 50 reis Brazil, 1881, can be distin- 
guished from the 1882 in the following manner : Place 
a piece of paper across the stamp so that it is between 
the 5 and O of 50 on each side, touching the lower 
edge of o on the left and the ball of 5 on the right. 
In the 1881 small head issue the nose is a millimeter 
above the paper, while in the large head 1882, the paper 
cuts through the nostril. C.The.term " Sidney Views " 
is used to denote stamps of the first design'issued in 
New South Wales. These stamps picture a view (?) 
of Sidney in the background. The original plate was 
beautifully engraved, but became worn, and was reen- 
graved, or rather retouched, in parts. The fine engrav- 
ing makes the stamp especially beautiful when in good 
condition. They are rather expensive. C. There was a 
stamp paper published in England as early as the latter 
part of 1862. It was known as the " Monthly Adver- 
tiser." It existed for several years, but under different 
titles. C.In reply to your query about the British Levant 
1 piaster 30 paras, 1908, brown and green, I would say 
that it seems likely to be a scarce stamp. The English 
dealers are raising their prices for it, and I learn that a 
large dealer in Constantinople has been trying to buy 
in the English market. If you'have not already se- 
cured the Bulgarian surcharges 10 on 15 stot and 25 on 
30 stot, it would be well to do so. These are not so 
frequently offered as formerly. To come nearer home, 
the 13-cent stamp of the United States is no longer on 
sale at the post-offices, and as it was in use only a 
short while should be added to your collection before it 
becomes scarce. 








to the fine new store, 127 Madison Ave., New York. 

Scott's Catalogue, 800 pages, paper covers, 60c; cloth, 75c; post free. 
Albums, 30c to $55 each. Send for illustrated price-list. 

STAMPS-108 fft-3 

Chile, Japan, curious Turkey, scarce Paraguay, Philippines, 
Costa Rica, West Australia, several unused, some picture 
stamps, etc., nil for 10c. Big list and copy of monthly 
paper free. Approval sheets, 50% commission. 
SCOTT STAMP & COIN CO., 127 Miullson Ave., New York 


Something entirely new that will interest 
every stamp collector, both old and young. 
Write to-day for a free Sample Stamp Lesson, 
and find out how to become a philatelist. 

New England Stamp Co., 43 Washington Bldg., Boston, Mass. 

Each set 5 cts. — 10 Luxemburg; 8 Fin- 
land; 20 Sweden; 15 Russia; 8 Costa 
Rica; 12 Porto Rico; 8 Dutch Indies; 5 Crete. Lists of 5000 low-priced 
stamps free. CHAMBERS STAMP CO., 

Ill 6 Nassau Street, New Tork City. 


STAMPS 108 all different, Transvaal, Servia, Brazil, Peru, 
Cape C. H., Mexico, Natal, Java, etc., and Album, 10c. 1000 
Finely Mixed, 20c. 65 different U.S., 25c. 1000 hinges, 5c. 
Agents wanted, 50 per cent. List Free. I buy stamps. 
C. Steg-man, 5941 Cote Brilliante Av„ St. Louis, Mo. 


100 all different, fine Ecuador, New- 
foundland, etc., only 10c. 100 diff. 
U.S., big bargain, 30c! 1OO0 mixed foreign only 20c. List 
free! Agts. wanted. 50 per ct. L. B. Dover, St. Louis, Mo. 

STAMPS FREE. 15 all different Canadians, 10 India, and 
catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents, and, when possible, send us 
names, addresses of two stamp collectors. Special Offers, no 
two alike. 50 Spain 11c, 40 Japan 5c, 100 U. S. 20c, 50 Australia 
gc, 10 Paraguay 7c, 10 Uruguay 7c, 17 Mexico 10c, 20 Turkey 7c, 
7 Persia 4c. Agents Wanted 5o?n discount. 50 Page List Free. 
BARKS STAMP COMPANY. Dept. N. Toronto, Canada. 

1T1) U* U* Packet of Rare Stamps for 2c. Postage. 
* rVJl^J!^ D. C.STAMpCo.,24SecondSt.,N.E.,Wash.,D.C. 

DANDY PACKET STAMPS free, for names two honest collec- 
tors ; 2c postage. Send to-day. U.T. K. STAMP CO., Utica, N.Y. 

B«l STAMPS: 105 China, Egypt, etc.. stamp dictionary and list 3000 
Ell bargains 8c.' Agents, 50%. A. Billiard & Co., Sta. A., Boston. 

CTAMDC CDCC 2 °5 all diff. with6mos. sub. to MekeePs Weekly 
OIHlTlrO ri\tt. Stamp News. 3 Kass. Boston, Mass. Remit 25c. 

5 Varieties PERU Free with trial approval sheets. 1000 
mixed foreign stamps, 8c. F. E. THORP, Norwich, N. Y. 

Stamp Album vith 538 genuine Stamps, incl. 
Rhodesia, Congo (**ger), China (dragon), Tasmania (land- 
scape), J amaica(w?ierf alls), etc., only 10c. 100 diff. Japan, 
India, N.^ld., etc. ,5c. Agts. wtd. 50%. Big bargain 
list, coupons, etc., all Free! We Buy Stamps. 
C. E. Hussman Stamp Co., Dep. I, St. Louis, Mo. 

3| 9m _:p. Free for applying for our 50 per cent. Appr. Sheets. 
Jdllldlbd xhe Birch Stamp Co. , Newtonville, Mass. 




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It contains no starch, rice powder or 
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Sample Box for Sc Stamp 
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Ci f I 3 Tunis, 3 Persia, 3 China, 4 

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A wholesome and fascinating book of adventure for 
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"HI Around *e WorldTp 



*^ ^^ pict 

VW^ # #*4mIv the author's snap- 

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The story of a 
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Over 100 
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through most of Europe, Egypt, Palestine, Ceylon, Burma, and India, through Siam and 
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" His book is a well-told account of his wanderings, full of fresh observation. It 
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The New S&lesmanRebuked 

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T 2r 


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Ivory Soap . . . 99 4 ^oPer Cent. Pure. 


[The entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission.] 


Frontispiece. "Swiftly the Little Princess, Creeping, Fled, at 

the Call Of a Vagrant Bird ! " Drawn by Reginald Birch. Page 

A Bird-Call. Verse E. Vinton Blake 675 

Illustrated by Reginald Birch. 

Halley's Comet. Sketch A. Russell Bond 678 

Illustrated from Photographs by Professor Barnard. 

Heard About the House Arthur Gulterman 681 

The League of the Signet-Ring. Serial Story Mary Constance Du Bois 682 

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 

The Boy Who Forgets. Verse Pauline Frances Camp 689 

" Feather-Stitching." Picture N. L. Umbstaetter 689 

A Runaway Train. (" The Young Railroaders" Series.) F. Lovell Coombs 690 

Illustrated by F. B. Masters. 

The Last Day of School. Verse 694 

Illustrated by Emma Troth. 

Ole Daddy Do-Funny's Wisdom Jingles. Verse Ruth McEnery Stuart 695 

Daisy Chains. Verse by Ethel Jackson 696 

Illustrated by the Author. 

The Chaplet of Honor. (More "Betty" Stories.) Carolyn Wells 697 

Illustrated by Reginald Birch. 

Will-o'-the-Wisp. Verse Cecil Cavendish 704 

The Boy and the Bishop. Sketch Harry Fenn 705 

An Unwelcome Guest. Picture 707 

The Land of Must n't. Verse L. J. Bridgman 708 

Illus'rated by the Author. 

Kingsford, Quarter. Serial Story Ralph Henry Barbour 709 

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 

The Rat — A Jingle Deborah Ege Olds 715 

Rhyming Riddles. Verse Mildred Howells 716 

Illustrated by the Author. 

The Refugee. Serial Story Captain Charles Gllson 718 

Illustrated by Arthur Becher. 

Little Johnny-Jump-Up. Verse '. Julia Grace Gilbert 723 

Big Kites. Sketch H. D. Jones 724 

Illustrated from Photographs. 

Kite Photography for Boys and Girls Prof. Robert Williams Wood 726 

Illustrated by Photographs and Diagrams. 

The Brownies and the Baby-Carriages Palmer Cox 729 

Illustrated by the Author. 

The Young Wizard of Morocco. Serial Story Bradley Gilman 733 

Illustrated by George Varian. 

A Little German Prince. Sketch Edith Eltinge Pattou 738 

Illustrated from Photographs. 

Leaves from the Journey Book. Drawn by De Witt Clinton Falls 741 

Books and Reading Hlldegarde Hawthorne 746 

Nature and Science for Young Folks, illustrated 748 

The St. Nicholas League. Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems, 

Drawings, and Photographs. Illustrated 756 

The Countess Concertina. Verse c. f. Lester 764 

Illustrated by the Author. 

The Letter-Box 766 

The Riddle-Box 767 

The Century Co. and its editors receive manuscripts and art material, submitted for publica- 
tion, only on the understanding that they shall not be responsible for loss or injury thereto 
while in their possession or in transit. Copies of manuscripts should be retained by the authors. 

Subscription price, $3.00 a year;. single number, 25 cents. The half-yearly parts of ST. NICHOLAS end with the 
October and April numbers respectively, and the red cloth covers are ready with the issue of these numbers : price 50 cents, by mail, post- 
paid; the two covers for the complete volume. $1.00. We bind and furnish covers for 75 cents per part, or $1.50 for the complete 
volume. In sending the numbers to us, they should be distinctly marked with owner's name, and 54 cents {27 cents per part) should 
be included in remittance, to cover postage on the volume if it is to be returned by mail. Bound volumes are not exchanged for numbers. 

Persons ordering a change in the direction of Magazines must give both the old and the new address in full. No change can be 
made after the 5th of any month in the address of the Magazine for the following month. PUBLISHED MONTHL Y. 

FRANK H. SCOTT, President. 

william w.ellsworth, secretary. THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, New York, N. Y. 



Boy : "Grandfather, what did you use to do before we had Pond's Extract ?" 
Grandfather : " Why, I don't remember. We used it regularly when I was a boy. 






JUNE, 1910 

No. 8 

Copyright, 1910, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 

Noon on the gardens fair and stately, 

Close-clipped hedges and arbors rare; 
Noon in the palace hush'd sedately — 

King asleep in his cushioned chair. 
Pages nodding and lords bent over; — 

Breaking the silence, far and sweet, 
"Tweet-tweet-tweet !" sang a bird in the clover 

Warm winds blew it across the wheat ! 

Princess Marjoline, fair and rosy, — 
Sun a-fleck on her golden head, — 
Scowl'd at her lessons dull and prosy; 

"That bird 's happy !'" she softly said. 
Nodded the grim duenna, sleeping; 

Eyes that saw not, nor ears that heard ; 
Swiftly the little princess, creeping, 
Fled, at the call of a vagrant bird ! 




Down by hedges and beds of myrtle, 

Tearing laces and frills aside ; 
Clad in her short green under-kirtle, 
Bare little arms, and hair blown wide. 
Off with shoes !— and the brown brook's 
Answer'd the splash of dimpled feet; 
Then by the wood-track, following after, 
Led by the bird's song, "Sweet, oh, sweet !" 


Down thro' the birch-boles treading lightly, 
Brown, and barefoot, and half afraid,— 
"Come and play!" call'd the princess brightly, 
"Play with me !" to the cotter's maid. 
Not a moment of joy they wasted: 

Shar'd the princess the cotter's dole; 
Never such toothsome fare she tasted — 
Black bread dipp'd in the creamy bowl ! 

Rout in the lighted palace revel'd, 

Search'd and scann'd was the lordly place; 
Torch-lit pages, and maids dishevel'd 

Track'd the princess by scraps of lace ! 
Every hour of dark she number'd,— 
Grim duenna,— with terror wild; 

While ever the princess 
.> calmly slumber'd 

On the straw with the 
cotter's child ! 





Counsel'd at morn the lords together; 

Paced the monarch on restless feet. 
(Far away, from the grass and heather, 

Echoed the bird's song, "Sweet, oh, sweet!") 
Sudden a tumult— guards and pages, 

Torn green kirtle and golden hair ; 
'Punish!" the old duenna rages; 

Shrieks the princess: "You will not dare!" 

See, I love her! We play'd together!" 
Small white palm into brown one strayed; 

(Scared, like cattle in hempen tether, 
Stood the hinds and their barefoot maid). 

Kind they were when I wander'd thither ; 
Is it by bonds such debts we pay? 

Wicked pages, to hale them hither ! 
/ 'm to blame, for— I ran away!" 


Twinkled the king's eyes, laughter-laden ; 

"Gold and freedom for them," quoth he, 

'Since they have hous'd this wilful maiden 

Who hath flouted my house and me." 
Kiss'd and tweak'd in a breath, she winces. 

"This for penance, my tricksy elf; 
Listen— whisper : your father, princess, 
Did the very same thing himself !" 



Photographs taken by Professor Barnard and reproduced here with his permission. 

It is lucky that these are not the Middle Ages, or 
we should now be having the fright of our lives. 
A fiery comet suddenly made its appearance last 
January, and now another far greater one has ar- 
rived. The first one was a strange comet never 
seen before, but the second is an old and regular 
visitor, and in earlier days caused many a scare. 
Once in particular it spread consternation over 
the whole world. It was in 1456. The dreaded 
Turks were in the midst of their wars on Europe. 
For years they had been swarming across from 
Asia, dealing death and destruction wherever 
they went. But one Christian city at the very tip 
end of the continent defied them. Time after 
time they laid siege to it, but it withstood every 
assault. Finally, after a hundred years of war, 
this city, the great city of Constantinople, fell. 
All Christians were alarmed, for the Turks, 
flushed by the victory, advanced on the rest of 
Europe, and it seemed as if nothing could stop 
them. Just at this critical time an enormous 
comet appeared that stretched across a third of 
the heavens. It looked like a gigantic simitar, 
and every one was in a frenzy of fear. It surely 
meant that the terrible Turks would overwhelm 
the whole of Christendom. Church bells were 
rung and prayers offered to ward off the impend- 
ing evil. The Turks, on the other hand, were also 
worked up to a high pitch of excitement; for in 
their superstitious fright they imagined it to be a 
flaming cross sent to warn them of their coming 
destruction at the hands of the Christians. But 
nothing extraordinary happened, and in time the 
comet faded out of sight. Since those stirring 
days the same comet has made us five visits and 
is now on a sixth. However, no one ever thought 
it was the same comet coming back every seventy- 
five or seventy-six years until about two hundred 
years ago, when Edmund Halley, an English 
scientist, began to study the matter. If an astron- 
omer has the chance to observe the position of a 
heavenly body on three different nights he can 
tell you just where it came from, where it is 
going, and when, if ever, it will return. This 
Halley did with a large comet of his day, and 
his investigation showed that this was the very 
comet that had frightened the world after the fall 
of Constantinople. He also found that the comet 
would return again at the end of 1758 or begin- 
ning of 1759— a prediction that came true, for it 
made its reappearance on Christmas night, 1758. 

We know all about the comet now, just when it 
will come again, and where it goes between visits. 
We know that it travels around the sun just as 
we do, but in an oval or elliptical path, with one 
end of the ellipse only half as far and the other 
thirty-five times as far from the sun as we are. 
We know that there is nothing supernatural 
about the comet, that it does not mean war or 
death. Yet there are many people even in these 
days who are frightened because they have 
learned that Halley's comet is going to come 
very close to us this time, so close that it will hit 
us with its tail. Now, if only these people knew 
a little more, they would be spared all their anx- 
iety, as we shall presently see. 



Usually a comet has a bright spot in the head 
which is called the "nucleus." This is made up 
of solid matter. Around this is a hazy mass 
called the "coma" or "hair," which is made up of 
gas. This gas streams at one side into a misty, 
gauze-like tail. But comets look different at dif- 
ferent times. Could you have seen Halley's 
comet thirty-seven years ago, when it was at the 
other end of its ellipse, 3,300,000,000 miles off, 
you would not have recognized the small, dark 
object, colder than the coldest ice, without the 
slightest trace of a tail, with no light of its own, 
traveling in a region of perpetual twilight, where 



the sun looks no brighter than a street lamp. 
Since then the comet has been moving toward the 
sun, very slowly at first, then faster and 'faster, 
until by the twentieth of April it was traveling at 
a speed that would have made a rifle-shot look as 
if it were not moving. When it was first picked 
up by the largest telescopes last fall, it looked like 
a mere speck ; but, as it approached the sun, the 
cold, frozen comet material began to warm up. 
Then it began to glow, and, like coal when 
heated, it commenced to give off volumes of gas 
that streamed out into a tail. The photograph 
opposite shows the comet on February 3, when it 
had only a wisp of a tail. But since then the 
tail has grown many millions of miles long. 

On the twentieth of April the comet rounded 
the sun and began its return journey, back to the 
cold, dark regions it came from. As the sun was 
passed, the light, flimsy tail swept around faster 
than the head, and the comet is now moving 
off tail first. All comets do this, and it is a 
trick that has puzzled astronomers not a lit- 
tle. The tail acts for all the world like your 
shadow when you walk around a lamp. It al- 
ways points directly away from the light. As- 
tronomers think that it is the pressure of the 
sun's light that makes the gases stream off into 
space. When the sun shines on us, we do not feel 
a pressure, but we are very heavy compared with 
the stuff of which the tail is composed. An arti- 
ficial comet's tail was once made at Dartmouth 
College, and when a stream of light was played 
on it the tail was actually pushed to one side. 

Now if a comet's tail is so light that it may be 
whisked about by sunshine, it must be very light 
indeed, and it seems odd that a feather-weight 
mass of stuff like that can travel through space 
at such an enormous rate of speed. Why, on 
April 20 the head of the comet was making 
thirty-one miles per second. Think of it, ninety 
times faster than a rifle-ball ! In the time it takes 
to fire a shot across the Hudson River the comet 
would speed from New York to Philadelphia. 
We can make a bullet travel one third of a mile 
in a second, but imagine trying to make a 
feather or a wisp of cloud travel half as fast! 
We put feathers on the tail of an arrow to make 
it trail behind the arrow-head, and here is the 
tail of the comet actually taking the lead. Some- 
thing must be wrong; but we forget that there 
is nothing whatsoever to prevent a comet's tail 
from traveling as fast as it pleases, while on 
earth it is the air that prevents light objects 
from moving fast. If it were not for the air, 
your arrow would need to have neither head nor 
tail. A feather would drop to the ground as fast 
as a bullet. It would be no difficult matter for a 

ball-player to throw a feather across the dia- 
mond, and home runs would be as common and 
probably more so if a tuft of down were used in 
place of a base-ball. 

With nothing to prevent them from traveling 
as fast as they please, the light gases that 
stream out of the comet are kept in line by the 


sun's rays, and sweep around with never more 
than a slight curve of the tail. If we were 
within a few feet of the tail, we should n't hear a 
sound, not the slightest swish, because it is travel- 
ing through a vacuum. 

It is this silent, ghost-like tail that is going to 
strike us on the eighteenth of May, but the earth 
will plow through it like a bullet through a wisp 
of smoke, at a speed of forty miles a second ! 

But there is another thing some people are 
afraid of. Astronomers can tell what a thing is 
by the light it gives off, and so they have dis- 
covered that in this comet's tail there is a gas 
called "cyanogen." Now, when this gas comes 
in contact with hydrogen it makes prussic acid, 
one of the worst poisons we know. This is the 
poison that whales are sometimes killed with. 
When a bomb of prussic acid strikes and ex- 
plodes in a whale, the animal, big as it is, turns 
over and dies inside of five minutes. A single 
drop of prussic acid on your tongue would kill 
you almost instantly. Still we have nothing to 
fear. There is not enough cyanogen in the tail 
to do any damage, and it is so light that it can- 
not sink through the air or find enough hydrogen 
to form any dangerous amount of prussic acid. 




Nearly all comets' tails have cyanogen in them, 
and this is not the first time we have encountered 
a comet's tail. In 1819 and again in 1861 the 




earth passed through a comet's tail, but no one 
noticed anything except a splendid display of 
Northern Lights. Those of you who get this copy 
of St. Nicholas before the evening of May 18 
had better look out for an aurora. 

No, we need have no fear of the tail. If the 
head of a comet struck us, that would be a dif- 
ferent story. But we are not going to come 
anywhere near the head. When we pass* through 
the tail, the head will be 14,000,000 miles away. 
The comet and the earth will be traveling in 
opposite directions, as shown in Fig. I. The 
earth is moving at a speed of nineteen miles a 
second and the comet at twenty-two, so we won't 
tarry long in the tail, not more than a few hours 
at most. 

During April and the first part of May the 
comet could be seen only before sunrise. After 
the eighteenth of May it will appear in the evening 
skies. Figs. 2 and 3 show how this is. In Fig. 2 
we have a picture of the sun, comet, and earth 
as they will appear on April 20. The earth looks 
very large because it is in the foreground. The 
sun and the comet are really very much larger, 
but they are 90,000,000 miles away. The earth 
spins around on its axis toward the cast, the side 
that the boy is peering around. The shaded or 
night side of the earth is toward us. The thread 

of light around the eastern edge of the earth 
shows that dawn is breaking in America, while on 
the opposite side in Asia the sun is setting. Peo- 
ple who are back in the shadow just off this 
thread of light can peer over the eastern horizon 
and see the comet without getting the glare of 
the sun, but as the earth turns on its axis it 
carries them around into the glare of the sun, 
and even before they get into the direct rays the 
comet will fade from view in the twilight of ap- 
proaching dawn. In the meantime the earth is 
traveling bodily toward the right, as shown by the 
dotted line, while the comet is moving toward us. 
After the eighteenth, when the comet passes 
between us and the sun, it crosses over to the 
other side of the earth, and there it can be seen 
after sunset by peering around the western hori- 
zon at it. Fig. 3 shows the position on the twenty- 
fifth of May. Each day, as it moves away from us 
and the sun, we can see it later in the evening, 
but it will be growing fainter and smaller until, 
almost at the end of June, it will no longer be 
visible to the naked eye. The big telescopes will 
follow it much farther on its journey, but in 




time they will have to drop it and let it pursue 
its lonesome journey to the cold, dark regions 
whence it came. 

If a comet were only a living being, it would 
find its periodic visits to our neighborhood most 
interesting. When it last appeared, railroads 






were a novelty. On the visit before that, steam- finds us just learning to fly after having success- 
engines were unknown, and Benjamin Franklin fully navigated beneath the sea-level. Who can tell 
was making experiments with lightning and tell- what great advances will be made by the end of this 
ing us something about electricity. This time it century, when Halley's comet makes its next visit? 



"Ho!" jeered the Sieve at the Needle, "there 's 
a hole in your head !" 

"Why am I so bright?" repeated the Door-knob; 
"because I have felt the warm hand-clasps of a 
thousand friends." 

"According to the older folk," chuckled the 
Chimney, "I am meant to carry off the smoke ; 
but the children know that my real purpose is 
to serve as a highway for Santa Claus." 

"These Mortals are so inconsistent!" mourned 
the Books in the library. "Some use us to help 
them work, others to help them idle ; some read 
us to make themselves think, others to keep them- 
selves from thinking." 

"Light is good," said the Window; "therefore 
I am made to let it in." 

"Light is evil," retorted the Blind; "else where- 
fore was I made to shut it out?" 

"Times and seasons, times and seasons!" ticked 
the Clock. 

"I am the great and universal genius!" pro- 
claimed the Very Littlest of All the Hairpins. 
"I can mend a broken wire, draw a cork, clean a 
drain, pick a lock, untie a knot, and help in a 
thousand and one emergencies." 

"True, perhaps," yawned the Mirror, "but are 
there not other things that can perform those 
services ever so much better? Why not stick 
to the work for which you were made?" 



Chapter III 


Yes, the secret room was discovered at last ! 

"See, it was a bolt that held the panel," said 
Douglas, and to the treasure-seekers clustered 
before the china-closet he displayed a small, 
square piece of metal inserted into a groove in 
the surbase. Then he showed them the corre- 
sponding groove in the panel into which it had 
fitted, and from which his knife had displaced it, 
causing the little door to spring free. 

Eric lost not a second in entering the secret 
premises. Douglas, Jack, and Jean followed, and 
found themselves in a space about the depth of 
the china-closet and nearly as long. 

"We 've felled the zvood! Now let 's 'find the 
treasure!'" said Jean. 

"Here she is!" announced Eric, as, in the 
darkness, he stumbled against a bulky obstacle. 
"Hooray! I bet it 's the old captain's locker!" 

Jean's cry of rapture was echoed by the girls 
outside. "Bring it out! Bring it out!" they 
called impatiently. 

The coffer was dragged to the entrance, hoisted 
on end, and pulled forth into the light of day. 
It proved to be a small dark-colored wooden 
chest, bound with brass, and the sight of it was 
enough to bring the glitter of gold before one's 

"The cap'n must have been an easy-going old 
chap," observed Jack. "He did n't bother much 
about new padlocks, did he?" 

The chest was fastened merely by sticks thrust 
into the hasps, the padlocks being gone. 

"It 's been broken into!" groaned Eric. Anx- 
iously he raised the lid, and the girls as anxiously 
bent to look. The captain's trustfulness had not 
been abused; the coffer evidently held treasure of 
some sort, wrapped in a piece of purple brocade. 
Eric lifted a fold of this covering', and they saw, 
not indeed Spanish coin, but yet the glitter of 
gold and silver, the sparkle of gems, and the 
luster of mother-of-pearl ; for the upper layer 
consisted of antique trinkets and curios. 

"Not much treasure about that !" said Eric, 
but there was a scream of delight from the girls. 

"They 're presents from the captain to his lady- 
love, and she must have died before he got home !" 
suggested Jean. 

"Oh, see this beautiful little gold box studded 
with gems !" cried Cecily, on her knees before 

the locker. She held up a small round box, all 
of gold, the cover set with a circle of tiny yellow 
topazes. Peeping out from under the lid was a 
small slip of paper, on which something was 
written. Cecily glanced at it and read aloud : 
"Sugar-plums for the Frisky Mouse !" 

Blankly the girls stared at each other, for 
Frisky Mouse was the sobriquet of merry, black- 
eyed Frances Browne ! "Oh, pshaw ! It 's all a 
joke!" exclaimed Cecily. Then the girls burst 
into a peal of merriment, and the boys into a hilari- 
ous shout, with the exception of Eric, who con- 
tented himself with the bitter comment, "Stung !" 

"Carol ! You wretch ! You fraud ! You 
wicked Alruna !" The queen fell on her chief 
councilor and shook her, laughing. 

"What is your Majesty attacking me for?" 
Carol inquired. "Sea-captains always travel 
about with a whole menagerie of pet tigers and 
orang-utans and boa-constrictors ! Captain Arm- 
strong would n't have been worthy of his ship if 
he had n't owned at least a tame mouse ! Be 
careful of those candies, Frances; they may turn 
out to be 'Rough on Rats' sugar-coated !" 

"I '11 try one on Jack," said Frances, who had 
pounced on the golden box, and found it filled 
with tiny sweets. 

"I 'm always ready to sacrifice myself in a 
good cause," said Jack, and he nobly helped him- 
self to three, only to be charged with greed. 

" 'For the Princess of the Scroll !' 'For the 
Princess of the Treasure !' " read out Cecily, gath- 
ering up more riches from the hoard. "Please 
explain how the captain came to be acquainted with 
Betty and me a whole century before we existed !" 

"Why, the uncle-cestor of an Alruna ought to 
have some knack for reading the future and fore- 
telling who were coming to loot his treasure, 
ought n't he?" said Carol. "It was a very sen- 
sible idea, I 'm sure, to have everything already 
labeled, so that the ladies of the Sword of Love 
would n't squabble." 

"Well, when did you find that secret room, 
anyhow?" asked Eric. 

"When did the captain, you mean," his sister 
corrected. "This is his locker, not mine." 

"But are all these beautiful things really and 
truly for us ?" asked Betty. 

"Is this gorgeous box really for me ?" said 
Frances. "Look, girls, it has Gilbert Chauncey 
engraved on it V 

"Yes, the old Tory bequeathed you his snuff- 



box, Frisk," said Carol. "Help yourselves to the 
plunder, Silver Sworders." 

"You old duck of an Alruna!" exclaimed Jean. 
"I forgive you all your wickedness!" 

The plunder was divided, and if it had indeed 
been diamonds the girls could not have shown 
more delight, as each found awaiting her some 


unique and charming gift with her name at- 
tached. Cecily was enchanted with her trophy — 
a big French fan, a relic of the days of Louis 
XV. It was of creamy satin, and painted on it 
were gay little beaux and belles dancing the min- 
uet. Its sticks were of ivory, so finely carved 
that it looked like lace-work. Betty was in rap- 
tures over an antique French necklace which 
Carol hung around her throat. The beads were 
large, clear crystals set in silver filigree, and the 
filigree pendant held, encircled in crystals, the 
tiniest of porcelain miniatures, showing the face 
of a pretty demoiselle with a rose in her pow- 
dered hair. Hilda's delight rivaled Betty's when 
she received the pair of silver and crystal brace- 
lets that matched the necklace, each with its 

dainty miniature set in the clasp. Phyllis fell heir 
to a pair of solid gold shoe-buckles studded with 
garnets, the very things to adorn her hat and 
belt. Evelyn's prize was a gold purse or reticule, 
hung on a thin gold chain. It was only two 
inches square and was set with turquoises; and 
it exhaled, when she opened it, a faint aromatic 
perfume, showing it to be a vinaigrette. 

Jean won, as her share of the spoil, a little box 
of shining mother-of-pearl. She drew a long 
breath of delight, as, opening it, she brought out 
an exquisite ivory miniature. It was framed in 
pearls, and the back was of antique ruddy gold. 
It was meant to be worn as a pendant, for it was 
hung on a chain of golden links. But Jean for- 
got the richness of the setting in gazing on the 
picture itself, which was painted in tones as deli- 
cate as the tints of a sea-shell. Out from her 
frame of pearls looked the round, winsome face 
of a little maiden. She had not long stepped out 
of babyhood, yet her sunny curls were gathered 
up on top of her head, and her dimpled shoulders 
peeped out from a folded white kerchief. 

"You darling!" cried Jean. "You little love! 
Who is she?" 

The quaint baby beauty made a conquest of 
hearts on the spot. "She looks like one of Sir 
Joshua Reynolds's children," said artist Cecily. 
She glanced from the child's face to Carol's, 
full of sweetness and charm, to her lovely deep- 
lashed soft brown eyes and her curly bright- 
chestnut hair. "I think you must have looked like 
that, Carol, when you were a little tot. Was n't 
your hair just that red-gold color? It 's red- 
gold-brown now. What grandmother is she ? 
A great-great ?" 

"No grandmother at all, and she was n't a dar- 
ling, either," replied Carol. "She was a horrid 
little thing, with a very bad temper. That red in 
her hair is her temper streak. That 's your Big 
Sister, Jean, at the mature age of five. And now 
I '11 do a little more confessing. The miniature 
that belonged in that locket was broken, so Grand- 
father had little me put in, dressed up in eigh- 
teenth-century style; and I 'm giving myself to 
you, Queenie, because I know that, with all her 
faults, you love your Big Sister still." 

"You 're the dearest sister that ever was!" 
said Jean. "And I 'd rather have this than any- 
thing else in the world ! Oh, is n't it beautiful, 
with the pearls and the gold ! But your darling 
baby self ! She 's the best treasure of them all." 

Hanging the chain about Jean's neck, Carol 
went on with her confession. "Well, now it 's 
all up with me, so I '11 plead guilty to everything. 
Grandfather left me two big chests full of heir- 
looms—a hundred and fifty years old, and more, 




some of them are— and I thought you 'd like a 
few as souvenirs of this old home." 

The chests had contained heirlooms from sol- 
dierly grandfathers as well as from gentle grand- 
mothers, and Carol now tossed aside the brocade 
and revealed a regular arsenal of weapons. "I 
could n't find any Scotch claymores," said she, 
"so allow me to arm the chief of Clan Gordon 
with a Spanish rapier instead." And she pre- 
sented Douglas with a long, slender weapon not 
less than two centuries old. 

"Oh, thank you ever so much ! I never saw 
such a stunner. Whe-ew ! And it 's two-edged ! 
Must have done good work ! Ha ! Have at thee, 
Jack!" Douglas made a scientific lunge at his 
chum, but Jack was soon able to defend himself, 
for Carol handed him a Turkish simitar, with a 
curved blade and a hilt of beaten brass. She then 
armed Dick and Ned with cutlases. "And this is 
for you, Eric." She brought out a fine saber. 
"See what Grandfather wrote on it : 'Major Arm- 
strong's sword. To be given to my grandson 
Eric' I found it in the attic." 

"It 's a dandy!" said Eric. "Well, now the 
loot 's divided up, go ahead and tell a fellow. 
When did you find the secret room ?" 

"Years ago," Carol answered. "Howard and 
Al and I all found it together, but we kept dark 
about it, because Grandfather told us it was an old 
family law, if you found the room, never to tell 
any one where it was. And you see I did n't 
tell you out and out; I merely left a few hints in 
cipher; I just tore a page out of an old note-book 
that I found, and watered my ink to make it look 
revolutionary. And the last time Alan was home 
we ran out here and buried the treasure and 
painted the arrow on the garret floor. But Doug- 
las was unkind enough to see through it. When 
he came and showed me the paper, I saw by the 
twinkle in his eye that he had guessed, so I had 
to confess. But I did n't tell him where the 
treasure was buried." 

"Douglas Gordon!" said Jean, with awful se- 
verity, "do you mean to say you guessed it and 
then kept it all to yourself?" 

"Well, you see," Douglas admitted, "I 've been 
reading Poe's 'Gold Bug' lately. That 's all 
about buried treasure, and the man finds a cipher 
that shows him how to look for it. That 's why 
I knew about E and 'the,' and worked it out so 
easily. And I thought maybe the person who 
wrote this cipher had been reading the 'Gold 
Bug,' too." 

"Gold bugs are useful insects," said Carol. 

"Jack!" Cecily turned on her cousin, "did you 
suspect, too?" 

"Oh, well, I had a kind of subconscious feeling 

we might find 'April fool !' written on the coffer," 
Jack confessed. 

A thorough investigation was then made of the 
secret room and its construction. The china- 
closet in the dining-room and the dresser in the 
kitchen were shown to be each about nine inches 
shallower than the side of the chimney which 
they flanked, and it was the space between the two 
that formed the hiding-place. 

"Shucks !" growled Eric. "If I 'd known it 
was a little bit of a closet, I 'd have found it my- 
self. I thought it was a whole room !" He re- 
turned to his sword for consolation ; and when 
Alan came in with the mail he heard the clash 
of arms, and beheld five combatants thrusting, 
feinting, and parrying for the benefit of their 
fair ladies, and at the imminent risk of disfigur- 
ing one another for life. 

"I feel," remarked Jean, when peace reigned 
once more, "as if wherever I touched the wall or 
anything else, jewels would come tumbling out!" 
She was examining her mother-of-pearl box as 
she spoke. It was lined with blue satin. "Why, 
what 's this hard lump under the lining?" she ex- 
claimed. "Don't tell me it 's more buried trea- 
sure!" The satin was a trifle frayed, and she 
noticed a slight rent. Inserting her finger in the 
hole, she drew forth a ring ! 

"Wonders will never cease !" cried Carol. 
"How did that get there?" 

The girls pressed about eagerly to see the ring. 
It was of chased gold, set with a large amethyst, 
in which was cut a monogram. "It 's a seal- 
ring!" said Carol, studying the initials. "V C — 
Veronica Chauncey ! Alan ! Eric ! this is Grand- 
mother Veronica's ring! What a treasure!" 

"You 're a splendid actress, Carol," said Jean, 
"but you can't April-fool us this time!"^ 

"My dear girl, nobody 's April-fooled but my- 
self !" said Carol. "I never saw this ring in my 
life before !" 

"Carol Armstrong," said Jean, solemnly, "do 
you really mean to say you did n't hide it there?" 

"Jean Lennox, on my word of honor, I never 
saw, heard of, or dreamed of that ring! I 'm 
as much surprised as you are, and a hundred 
times more so !" 

"Well, then," said Jean, "I 'm glad you 're paid 
back, you naughty Alruna ! It serves you right ! 
I 'm glad you have a present yourself, too ! What 
a beauty of a stone ! Was n't it lucky I felt that 
lump and poked my finger in ?" 

"I '11 bless you forever, Queenie," said Carol. 
"Oh, girls, you don't know what a precious find 
this is for me! Veronica's own ring! And this 
must be her jewel-box, too. I thought it would 
make a pretty case for the miniature. Was n't 




it good that I did ! If I had n't, we might never 
have found the ring!" 

"V C—C V," said Jean. "Caritas et Veritas! 
Look, girls, you can read it either way, the let- 
ters are tangled up so ! Veronica ought to have 
belonged to the order!" 

"Why, actually, she had the Silver Sword ini- 
tials, had n't she!" said Carol. "What a co- 
incidence ! And she was loyal and loving ! 
You '11 have to adopt her as the grandmother of 
the order! Wait a minute— I must show the ring 
to Mother." 

She hurried up-stairs, but soon returned with 
the jewel in her hand. "Your Majesty," said 
she, "let me invest you with your signet-ring ! 
I 'm not allowed to really make you a present of 
it, but it is to be yours for purposes of state, and 
you must sign all your decrees with it. Hold out 
your royal finger." She slipped it on Jean's 
finger, and it fitted perfectly. 

"May I really wear it and use it for my sig- 
net?" asked Jean, delighted. "Oh, I '11 take the 
best care of it ! Thank you ever and ever so 
much. Battle maids, don't you ever dare to dis- 
obey me now, when you get my orders stamped 
with the queen's seal !" 

Chapter IV 


The rest of the afternoon was devoted to rifling 
every chest in the attic, and the plunderers came 
down to dinner arrayed in the spoils. Jean and 
Cecily rustled down-stairs in flowered brocades. 
Frances buried her gipsy face in a white satin 
poke-bonnet with limp purple flowers, wrapped 
herself in a crimson silk shawl, and insisted 
on warming her hands in an enormous muff. 
Jack, with his simitar and a huge turban, was 
a terrible Moor, at sight of whom Evelyn, now 
a lady of the Empire in a short-waisted taffeta 
gown, resorted to her vinaigrette to keep from 
swooning. As for Douglas, with his cloak, 
slouch-hat, and rapier, he was always on the 
point of a duel with Major Alan of the Continen- 
tal army, or the short but redoubtable Captain 
Eric of the navy. Carol, in black satin, with 
a demure lace cap and fichu, presided as grand- 
mother of the motley band, and Lady Martha 
Washington received them at the drawing-room 
door,— for Mrs. Armstrong had put on mob-cap 
and kerchief for the occasion. Before dinner was 
announced the masqueraders practised the minuet. 
"We need only the mysterious horsemen to 
make the party complete," said Carol. "They say 
the day Veronica was married they had a grand 
ball here, and just as they were dancing the 

minuet they heard horses come galloping up to 
the door. The next minute there came two thun- 
dering knocks, but when they went to see who 
was there, they could n't find any one ; only a 
tremendous gust of wind rushed in and nearly 
blew them away. It must have been some queer 
sound made by the wind, but the major always 
declared it was the ghosts of the British officers 
coming to scare Veronica in revenge for the trick 
she had played on them in helping Major Arm- 
strong to give them the slip." 

The minuet was in full swing when a loud 
rap-rap-rap sounded at the door. The dancers 
stopped in sheer surprise. Rap-rap-rap ! The 
ancient door-knocker hammered thunderously. 
Hamlet, roused from his nap on the hearth, 
sprang up with a furious bark and growl. The 
same exclamation was on every tongue : "The 
mysterious horsemen!" Alan took the dog by 
the collar. Carol opened the door, and her cry 
of surprise had a note of glad welcome, too. 

"Howard! Why! — Court Hamilton!" 

The new-comers were tall young fellows and of 
about the same age. The first, one would have 
recognized anywhere as Alan's elder brother. 
The second was well known to the girls who had 
camped at Halcyon, for he was Jack's brother, and 
Cecily's cousin. If Carol was surprised to see 
them, they were no less amazed at sight of her 
somber gown and the lace cap on her curly hair. 

"Who 's this?" asked Howard. "My great- 
grandmother? Why, Granny, how d' ye do?" 

"Good evening, mysterious horsemen!" Carol 
dropped them a profound courtesy. 

"Good evening, mysterious lady." Court made 
her a bow equally profound. "I thought I was 
going to find the Alruna here, but I 'm afraid 
I 'm walking in on a fancy-dress ball!" 

"No, only on the year 1776," she answered, 
laughing, as they shook hands cordially. "Here 
comes Lady Washington!" she added, as Mrs. 
Armstrong hastened out from the drawing-room. 

"Comment vous portez-vous, monsieur? Where 
have you come from? Did you drop from the 
sky?" asked Cecily, favoring her tall cousin with 
her finger-tips, like a true grande dame. 

"No, mademoiselle ; I 've only come up from 
Florida, and I did n't come on an airship. I 
suppose you did n't hear how I got a chance to 
join a government survey corps down there," said 
Court, who was studying engineering. 

Howard Armstrong had promised to join the 
house-party in time to lead the cotillion on the 
following evening, and he had been pledged to 
bring some friend with him. "I was going to get 
Billy Burton," he explained, "but I found Court 
hanging about, so I brought him along instead. 



I thought we might as well come out a day ahead 
and make sure we have the figures planned out 
all right." 

Howard was commended for his choice of a 

"It 's awfully good of you to take me in like 
this," said Court. "I called at the house this 
afternoon, and Howard said you were all out 
here and told me to come along, too. Please send 
me right off again if you don't want me." 

"Of course we want you!" said Carol. "This 
is perfectly delightful ! We can have a regular 
Halcyon reunion now. But you don't know what 
consternation you spread, you two, knocking at 
the door like the ghosts of the redcoats!" And 
she told the legend of the spectral riders. "But 
you did n't manage the thing correctly at all," 
she declared. "The idea of two mysterious horse- 
men having only one horse between them, and 
that one attached to a hack!" 

"I 'd have had Cyclone sent down from Hal- 
cyon on purpose, if I 'd only known, and come 
galloping up a la Paul Revere," said Court. 

"Dear old Cyclone !" exclaimed Jean. "How is 
he, the beauty ?" 

"Very poorly. He 's fading away with anxiety 
to know whether Carol 's going to bring Hia- 
watha up to Halcyon this summer, so they can 
have some good gallops together !" 

"See here !" Howard put in. "I want some 
thanks. Here are all your cotillion favors!" 

"You blessed brother!" cried Carol. "I 've 
been worrying my hair gray for fear you 'd for- 
get all about them." 

"He saw my package, and that jogged his for- 
gettery," said Court. "Mrs. Armstrong, I thought 
you and Carol might enjoy a little whiff of 
Florida." He presented a box full of beautiful 
creamy orange- and lemon-blossoms embedded in 
silver-gray moss. 

"Oh, thank you! How perfectly delicious!" 
said Carol, burying her face in the blossoms. 
"Court, your whiff of Florida is just what we 
need for to-morrow night. It il make the pretti- 
est part of the decoration !" 

With Court and Howard to complete the gath- 
ering, the evening proved a doubly merry one; 
and Veronica not being on hand to sing, Carol 
acted as substitute, for she had a precious gift 
in that sweet voice of hers, and was going' to 
Germany next fall to perfect it. 

April showers descended next morning, but 
what cared the young people, busy indoors mak- 
ing additional favors ! In the afternoon the sun 
flashed forth and called every one out for a walk 
along the river-bank ; and evening brought the 
climax of the holidays— the dance. 

At eight o'clock the girls came fluttering down 
in their light, dainty dresses to await the arrival 
of the Armstrongs' young friends. Frances, the 
best dancer in Hazelhurst, felt that the most 
glorious hour of her existence was at hand, for 
she was to lead the cotillion with Carol's 
"grown-up" brother Howard. 

And by the time the guests had assembled Jean 
had forgotten all else in the charm of the scene 
around her ; the quaint colonial rooms all abloom 
with flowers, the girls in their delicately tinted 
gowns, the light and loveliness on every side. 
She was still under the spell when Douglas 
claimed her for the first waltz. 

At ten o'clock the music sounded for the cotil- 
lion, and the gayest part of the evening began. 
The leaders had a merry time of it, issuing their 
commands; and Jean, with a long red ribbon for 
reins, was made to drive four boys abreast, to 
meet and take for partners the. girls driven by 
Douglas from the opposite end of the room. 
Alas ! the girls were but a trio, and it fell to poor 
Jack's lot to be the unlucky member of the four- 
in-hand, left partnerless and alone ! But his tri- 
umph came in the "candle figure," when, though 
blindfolded, he blew out the light with one mighty 
puff, and Betty, the candle-bearer, descended 
from the chair on which she had been mounted, 
to dance with him. 

Like a bit of springtime was the pretty "gar- 
land figure," where the girls, two and two, held 
chains of daffodils for the boys to march beneath. 
In another figure June herself seemed to have 
come. High screens were set up, covered with 
crape paper, out of which blossomed posies ready 
for-the buttonholes. The stems were held by girls 
hidden behind the screens, and whenever a bou- 
quet was taken, a flower-fairy appeared, breaking 
her way through the green wall. Douglas gath- 
ered a rose and drew Cecily after it; and when 
Court plucked a spray of his own orange-blos- 
soms, forth stepped Carol to be his partner. 

The hours of that evening might have been 
stolen out of fairy-land. Yet how soon it was all 
over, and instead of the brilliant dance-music 
there sounded only the strains of the wind-harp 
in the chimney ! The young people of the house- 
party clustered around the fireside, listening. 

"I. know what Veronica really did with her 
voice," said Court. "She left it to you, Carol." 

"And it had to be kept in storage in the chim- 
ney a whole century waiting for me," Carol re- 
plied. "That 's why it 's degenerated so." 

"You 're wrong there," said he. "It 's only 
grown richer and sweeter with age, like a violin." 
She dropped him a courtesy that would have done 
credit to her ancestress. 


68 7 



The clock on the stairs chimed a warning to 
the loiterers to leave the fireside. Jean peeped 
into the chimney before she turned away. "I wish 
I could see you, you cunning little sprite up 
there !" she called. "And I wish you 'd tell me 
what you 're singing about !" 

"It 's singing an ode on the way Miss Fran- 
ces and I made things hum to-night," said 

"And I think," said his sister, "it 's also trying 
to coax the house-party to come back some day." 

Chapter V 


"Carissima mia ! How are you, darling? I 've 
got oceans to tell you !" 

"And I 'm longing to hear, little daughter." 
Jean had come home from school to spend 
Sunday. What a joyful difference there was be- 
tween this year and last ! A year ago her father 
and mother had been far away in Brazil, but now 
they were back in the Northern world again, 
henceforth New York, not Rio Janeiro, was 
Jean's home. Soon they were sitting side by 
side, the happy daughter and the sweet invalid 
mother who was so precious that English endear- 
ments had failed, and the last pet name had been 
stolen from the Italian tongue. 

"Now I '11 show you something pretty," said 
Jean, when the news of Hazelhurst had been told. 
Off she flew, and returned with a sheet of legal 
cap bearing a royal summons, signed with the 
monogram V C stamped in silvery sealing-wax. 
The queen's mother read the document with flat- 
tering interest: 

On Saturday, May 15, the Order of the Silver Sword 
will hold a business meeting for the election of officers for 
the coming year. The meeting will be held in Castle Af- 
terglow at 4 P.M., and will be followed by a tea. 

"We 're going to make a regular celebration 
of it," said the occupant of the room called 
Castle Afterglow. "And we want to have Carol 
come out for it." 

"I 'm afraid, darling," said Mrs. Lennox, 
"Carol can't attend the meeting." 

Jean looked at her mother with startled eyes. 

"Is she ill?" 

"No, but she is needed at home just now." 

"Mother, I know something 's happened, and 

(To be 

you 're keeping it from me! What is it? Tell 
me !" Distress and fear were in Jean's face. 

"Yes, dear, something has happened, and the 
Armstrongs are in a great deal of trouble. Do 
you know what a business failure means?" 

"Of course I do ! It 's when a man loses all his 
money. Oh, Mother, they have n't failed, have 
they? Carol won't be poor, will she? Oh, 
Mother, do hurry and tell me !" 

"Listen, darling, quietly. You know Mr. Arm- 
strong has not been well lately, and so he has 
had to leave too much responsibility on his part- 
ner, Mr. Fletcher. So, when he had to go to 
Florida last winter, Mr. Fletcher took advantage 
of his absence to do some things that he knew 
Mr. Armstrong would thoroughly disapprove 
of. And poor Mr. Armstrong trusted him so 
completely that he did not suspect anything was 
wrong until a few weeks ago. Since then he has 
been trying every means to save his business ; 
but in spite of Mr. Armstrong's efforts the firm 
failed a few days ago." 

"I don't understand," Jean broke in. "What 
things did Mr. Fletcher do, Mother?" 

"I only know that every one says that his folly 
caused the failure, and that Mr. Armstrong has 
acted nobly and honorably, and intends to give up 
all his private property to pay his debts. But he 
will be left with scarcely anything." 

"Oh, poor, darling Carol !" cried Jean. 
"Mother, can't we help them? Can't I do some- 
thing for Carol ? Oh, Mother, I must help her ! 
What can I do?" 

"Not much just now, Jean, but there is one 
thing you can do better than any one." 

"I! What, Mother?" 

"Go and comfort her right away." 

"Mother, you know I love my Carol with all 
my heart," said Jean, "but I could never say any- 
thing to comfort her now. This trouble is too 

"No, Jean. It will comfort her just to know 
that her little sister wishes to help her. Just go 
and tell her that you love her more than ever, 
now that she is suffering." 

"That would n't do any good !" said Jean, de- 
spairingly. "We ought to do something!" But 
when Mrs. Lennox asked, "Where is the sword 
Caritas now, dear?" she buried her face on her 
mother's shoulder. A moment later she started 
to her feet. "I '11 go, Mother! She '11 find out 
how I love her anyhow !" 




I love him, the boy who forgets ! 

Does it seem such a queer thing to say? 
Can't help it ; he 's one of my pets ; 

Delightful at work or at play. 
I 'd trust him with all that I own, 

And know neither worries nor frets ; 
But the secret of this lies alone 

In the things that the laddie forgets. 

He always forgets to pay back 
The boy who has done him an ill ; 

Forgets that a grudge he owes Jack, 
And smiles at him pleasantly still. 

He always forgets 't is his turn 

To choose what the others shall play; 

Forgets about others to learn 

The gossipy things that "they say." 

He forgets to look sulky and cross 

When things are not going his way; 
Forgets some one's gain is his loss ; 

Forgets, in his work-time, his play. 
So this is why I take his part; 

Why I say he is one of my pets ; 
I repeat it, with all of my heart : 

I love him for what he forgets ! 

Vol. XXXVII. —87. 





"Hurry in, Al, or the lamp will blow out !" 

Alex Ward closed the station door behind him 
and laughingly flicked his rain-soaked cap toward 
the day operator, whom he had just come to re- 
lieve. He had been at Foothills, his first perma- 
nent station, three months. 

"Is it raining that hard? You look like the 
proverbial drowned rat," said Saunders, as he 
prepared to depart. 

"Wait until you are out in it, and you won't 
laugh. It 's the worst storm this spring," said 
Alex, throwing off his dripping coat. 

"And you wait until you see the fun you have 
with the wire. The heavy rain has had it out of 
commission to the east for an hour. Have n't had 
a dot from the despatcher since six o'clock." 

"There is some one now," said Alex, as the in- 
struments suddenly began clicking. 

"It 's somebody west— IC, I think. Yes; In- 
dian Canyon," said Saunders, pausing as he turned 
toward the door. "But he certainly can't make 
himself heard by X if we can't." 

"X, X, X," rapidly ticked the sounder, calling 
Exeter, the despatching office. "X, X ! Qk ! Qk !" 

Alex and Saunders turned toward one another 
with a start. Several times the operator at In- 
dian Canyon repeated the call, more urgently, 
then as hurriedly began calling Imken, the next 
station east of him. 

"There 's something wrong !" said Alex, step- 
ping to the instrument-table. Saunders followed. 

"IM, IM, IM ! Qk ! Qk !" clicked the sounder. 

T, I, IM," came the response. The two opera- 
tors at Foothills leaned forward expectantly. 

"A wild string of loaded ore-cars just passed 
here," the instruments were saying. "They 're 
going forty miles an hour ! They '11 be down there 
in no time ! If there is anything on the main line, 
for heaven's sake get it off ! I can't raise X for 
orders !" 

Alex and Saunders exchanged glances of alarm 
and anxiously awaited Imken's reply. For a mo- 
ment the instruments made a succession of inar- 
ticulate dots, then clicked excitedly, "Yes, yes ! 
OK! OK!" and closed. 

"What do you suppose he meant by that ?" said 
Saunders. "That there was something on the 
main track there?" 

A minute the wire remained silent, then again 
snapped open and whirred : "I got it off — the yard 
engine ! Just in time ! Here they come now ! 

Ten of them ! All loaded ! Going like an ava- 
lanche ! Thank goodness we got—" 

Sharply the operator at IC cut in to as hur- 
riedly call Terryville, the next station east. 

"But the runaways won't pass Terryville, will 
they?" exclaimed Alex, with a new anxiety. 
"Won't the grades between there and Imken stop 
them ?" 

Saunders shook his head. "Ten loaded ore-cars 
traveling at that rate would climb a stiff grade." 

"Then they '11 be down here in twenty or 
twenty-five minutes ! And there 's the accommo- 
dation coming east, and we can't reach any one to 
stop her !" 

"Well, what can we do ?" said Saunders, hope- 

Terryville answered, and breathlessly they 
awaited his report. 

"Yes, they are coming ! They are going past 
now," he added a moment after. "They 're past !" 

"They '11 reach us ! What shall we do ?" gasped 

Alex turned from the instrument-table, and, as 
IC hastily called Jakes Creek, the last station in- 
tervening, began striding up and down the room, 
thinking rapidly. 

"If they only had more battery— could make the 
current in the wire stronger!" Instantly he re- 
called the emergency battery he had made at Wat- 
son Siding, and with an ejaculation spun about 
toward the water-cooler. But only to utter an 
exclamation of disappointment. This cooler was 
of tin— of course useless for such a purpose. 

Hastily he began casting about for a substitute. 
"Billy, think of something we can make a big 
battery of," he cried. "To strengthen the wire !" 

"A battery? But what would you do for blue- 
stone? I used the last yesterday," said Saunders. 

Alex returned to the table and threw himself 
into the chair. 

"Say, perhaps one of the other fellows on the 
wire has some, and could make the battery." 

With a shout of "That 's it !" Alex seized the 
telegraph key, broke in, and called Indian Canyon. 
"Have you any extra battery material there?" he 
sent quickly. 

"Why . . . no. Why?" 

Abruptly Alex cut him off and called Imken. 
He also responded in the negative. But from 
Terryville came a prompt "Yes. Why—" 

"Have you a big stoneware water-cooler?" 




"Yes; but wh-" 

"Do you know how to make a battery ?" 


"Well, listen-" 

Suddenly the instruments failed to respond. A 
minute passed, and another. Five went by, and 
Alex sank back in the chair in despair. Undoubt- 
edly the wire had been broken somewhere. 

"Everything is against us," he exclaimed bit- 

"I 'm going to run for the section boss and see 
if we can't board that wildcat from the hand-car," 
he explained, struggling into the coat. "I did that 
once at Bixton — boarded an engine." 

"Board it? And what then?" 

"Why, put on the brakes and bring it to a stop, 
of course; then run ahead and flag 18!" 

Saunders hastened for the lantern, and quickly 
lighting it, Alex dashed for the door, out across 


terly. "And the runaways will be down here now 
in fifteen or twenty minutes. What can we do?" 

"The only thing I can think of is throwing the 
west switch and trying to run them onto the sid- 
ing," said Saunders. "But there 's not one chance 
in ten of their making it— probably they 'd only 
pile up in an awful smash." 

"If there was any way of getting aboard the 
runaways—" Alex broke off sharply. Would it 
not be possible to board them as he and Jack Orr 
had boarded the engine the day of the forest fire? 
Say from a hand-car? 

He started to his feet, and exclaiming, "Billy, 
get me a lantern, quick !" ran for his coat and hat. 

the platform, and off up the tracks toward the 
lights of the section foreman's house. Darting 
through the gate, he ran about to the kitchen door 
and without ceremony flung it open. The fore- 
man was at table, at his tea. He sprang to his feet. 

"Joe, there is a wild ore-train coming down 
from the Canyon," said Alex, breathlessly, "and 
the wire has failed east, so we can't clear the line. 
Can't we get the hand-car out and board the run- 
aways by letting them catch us?" 

An instant the section boss stared, then, with 
the promptness of the old railroader, seized his 
cap, and exclaiming, "Go ahead !" dashed out 
after Alex, in the direction of the tool-shed. 




"Where did they start from? How many cars?" 
he asked as they ran. 

"Indian Canyon. Ten, and all loaded." 

The sectionman whistled. "They '11 be going 
twenty-five or thirty miles an hour. We '11 be 
taking a big chance. But if we can catch them 
just over the grade beyond the sand-pits, I guess 
we can do it. That will have slackened them. 

"Here we are." 

As they halted before the section-house door, 
the foreman uttered a cry. "I have n't the key!" 

Alex swung the lantern about, and discovered a 
pile of ties. "Smash it in," he said, dropping the 
lantern ; and, one on either side, they caught up a 
tie, swung back, and hurled it forward; there was 
a crash, and the door was open. 

Catching up the lantern, they ran in, threw 
from the car its collection of tools, placed the 
light upon it, and seizing it on either side, stag- 
gered out with it to the rails. 

"Do you hear them?" asked Alex, as he threw 
off his coat. 

The foreman dropped to his knees and placed 
his ear to the rails, listened a moment, and sprang 
to his feet. "Yes ; they are coming. Come on ! 

"Run her a little first !" They pushed the little 
car ahead, quickly had it on the run, and spring- 
ing aboard, seized the handles, one at either end, 
and began pumping up and down with all their 

As they flew toward the station, the door 
opened, and Saunders ran to the edge of the plat- 
form and shouted: "I cut off the west, and just 
heard Z pass 18. He reported the superinten- 
dent's — " 

They whirled by, and the rest was lost. 

"Did you catch it?" shouted Alex to the fore- 
man above the roar of the wheels. 

"I think he meant . . . the 'old man's' car . . . 
attached to the accommodation," shouted the sec- 
tionman, as his head flew up and down. "Heard 
he was coming . . . worse for us ... we need 
every minute . . . Old Jerry, the engineer . . . 
will be breaking his neck ... to bring the accom- 
modation . . . through on time ! 

"Do you hear . . . the runaways yet?" 

"No," shouted Alex. 

On they rushed through the darkness, bobbing 
up and down like demon jumping-jacks, the little 
car screaming and screeching, and bounding for- 
ward like a live thing. 

The terrific and unaccustomed strain began to 
tell on Alex. The perspiration stood out on his 
brow, his muscles lagged and his breath shortened. 

"How much farther?" he called hoarsely. 

"Here 's the grade now ! Half a mile to the top !" 

As they felt the resistance of the incline, Alex 

began to weaken and gasp for breath. But grimly 
he clenched his teeth and fought on ; and at last 
the section boss suddenly ceased pumping, peered 
aside into the darkness, and announced: "Here 
we are! Let up!" And with a gasp of relief 
Alex dropped down to a sitting position. 

A moment after, he straightened up and lis- 
tened. From the west came a sound as of distant 

"It 's coming! How long before it '11 be here?" 
he panted. 

"Five minutes, perhaps. And now," said the 
sectionman, "just how are we going to work it?" 

"Well," said Alex, getting his breath, "when we 
boarded the engine at Bixton, we simply waited 
at the top of a grade until she was within about 
two hundred yards of us, then lit out as hard as 
we could go, and just as she bumped us we 

"All right. We '11 do the same." 

As the foreman spoke, the rain, which had de- 
creased to a drizzle, suddenly ceased, and the 
moon appeared. Instantly he and Alex glanced 
toward the station and uttered a common exclama- 
tion. Just beyond was a long black snake-like 
object, shooting along the rails toward them. 

The runaway ! 

On it swept over the glistening irons, the rum- 
ble quickly increasing to a roar. With an echoing 
crash it flashed by the station, and on. 

Nearer it came, the cars leaping and writhing; 
roaring, pounding, screeching. 

"Ready !" said the foreman, springing to the 
ground behind the hand-car. Alex joined him, 
and peering back over their shoulder, watching, 
they braced themselves for the shove. 

The runaways reached the incline ; swept on 
upward. Anxiously they gazed. Would the grade 
materially check them? 

"Are they slowing?" asked Alex, nervously. 

"Some, I think. But it will tell most near the 
head of the grade," said the foreman. 

"But get ready! We can't wait to see! 

"Go!" he cried, and rushing the car forward, 
they leaped aboard, seized the handles, and quickly 
were again pumping madly. 

For a few moments the roar behind them 
seemed to decrease. Then suddenly it broke on 
them afresh, and the head of the train swept over 
the rise behind them. 

"Now pull yourself together for an extra spurt 
when I say," shouted the foreman, who manned 
the forward handles and faced the rear, "then 
turn about and get ready to jump." 

Roaring, screaming, clanking, the runaways 
thundered down upon them. 

"Hit it up!" cried the sectionman. With every 




muscle tense, they whirled the handles up and 
down like madmen. "Let go ! Turn !" 

Alex sprang back from the whirling handles 
and faced about. The foreman edged by them and 
joined him. Nearer, towering over them, rushed 
the leading car. "Now be sure and jump high 
and grab hard," shouted the foreman. 

"Ready! JUMP!" 

With a bound they went into the air, and the 
great car flung itself against them. Their out- 
stretched hands reached the top of the end-board, 

distant, the engineer aboard the flying accommo- 
dation, suddenly "threw on his air," as he discov- 
ered a lantern between the rails ahead of him. 
His train came to a stand, and he was greeted by 
a shout from the foreman. 

"And I say, Jerry," added the latter, humor- 
ously, as he went forward, "you 're not good 
enough for a passenger run. You 're to push ore- 
cars. There 's a string just ahead of you." 

When he explained, the engineer stepped down 
from his cab, wiping the cold moisture from his 


and momentarily they hung, clutching desperately, 
while the car leaped and bounded beneath them. 
Getting their feet on the brake-beam, they strug- 
gled upward. And in another moment, tumbling 
headlong within, they were safely aboard. 

Alex sank down on the rough ore, utterly ex- 
hausted, gasping; but the seasoned foreman im- 
mediately got to his feet, seized the near-by brake- 
wheel, quickly tightened it, and scrambling back 
over the bounding train, one by one put on the 
remaining brakes. 

Soon the pressure on the wheels began to tell, 
and ten minutes later, screeching and groaning 
protestingly, the runaways came finally to a stop. 

Another ten minutes later, when a quarter-mile 

forehead, and on catching sight of Alex he sprang 
forward to grasp his hand. 

"Oh, it was more the foreman than I," said 
Alex, modestly. "I could n't have worked it at 
all without him." 

At that moment the division superintendent 
himself appeared. 

"Why, let me see !" he exclaimed. "Are you 
not the lad I helped fix up an emergency battery 
at Watson Siding last spring? and who has en- 
gineered two or three other similar clever affairs? 

"Well, my boy, young as you are, if I don't give 
you a try-out at the division office before the 
month is out, my name 's not Cameron. We need 
men there with a head like yours." 


"What can that noise be all about? 
Perhaps they 've let the sixth grade out. 
To-morrow our vacation comes 
But we must stav to do our sums!" 



"How come?" an' "Why?" an' "What 's de use?" 
Is handy words for a lame excuse, 
But dey 's mighty few words, ef you swing 'em 

But '11 open doors an' let in light. 

"How come my nuss mus' wash my face?" 
"Oh, why does high shoes have to lace ?" 
"What is de use of bonnet or hat?" 
Dey 's some nice chillen dat talks like dat. 

Mos' little folks is full o' "whys?" 
All disp'oportioned to dey size, 
But I knows one, I 's proud to say, 
Dat swings his "whys?" de other way: 

"How come my nuss so good to me?" 
"What makes a bird sing in a tree?" 
"How big must I make my balloon 
When we goes sailin' roun' de moon?" 

Now "whys?" like dese ain't impolite, 

An' nuss she always answers right ; 

So when his "whys?" is all explained, 

De junior 's bathed, an' dressed— an' trained. 


De gray squir'l lives a nachel life, 
Wid friends an' foes an' chillen an' wife; 
But whenever he gits his picture took, 
He snatches dat nut, to appear in de book. 
But he ain't by 'isself in dat, in dat — 
But he ain't by 'isself in dat ! 


De peacock is a 'ristocrat, 

Wid mighty fine clo'es, an' vain at dat; 

He '11 answer yo' glance wid col' surprise 

An' look you over wid a thousan' eyes ! 
But he ain't by 'isself in dat, in dat — 
But he ain't by 'isself in dat! 


Ole Dominick follers her brood o' ducks 
To de bayou's edge, an' she clucks an' clucks 
"Dis stepmammy job, oh me, oh me! 
Ain't all dat it 's quacked up to be !" 

But she ain't by 'erself in dat, in dat— 
But she ain't by 'erself in dat ! 


Ef de hoa'se ole rooster would n't crow so loud, 
He mought pass for young in de barn-yard crowd ; 
But he strives so hard an' he steps so spry 
Dat de pullets all giggles whilst he marches by; 

But he ain't by 'isself in dat, in dat— 

But he ain't by 'isself in dat! 


Ole Gobbly struts aroun' de stable 
An' th'ows out hints o' de rich man's table, 
An' he h'ists his tail an' spreads it wide, 
To display his cuyus graveyard pride. 

But he ain't by 'isself in dat, in dat— 

But he ain't by 'isself in dat! 

aiSy chains are. children making, chains so long and white and golden, 
(Jn the cjuiet, cool, verandah, through the sunny afternoon:®®® 

11 me western $ky i£ glowing , hird^ hegm to chirp and twitter 
In the gently Swaying tree- tops Twilight will he lalling Soon.®® 


{More "Betty" Stories)* 


As soon as June had fairly dawned upon the cal- 
endar, the girls of Miss Whittier's school began 
to prepare for closing day. 

It was customary to give an evening entertain- 
ment, in which all the pupils took part. 

"This year," Miss Whittier announced to the 
class, "I have a very delightful plan, of which I 
will now tell you. It is not exactly a play, but a 
little staged allegory which I am sure you will all 
think very attractive." 

Betty listened eagerly, for "staged allegory" 
sounded rather dry and poky, and yet it might 
turn out to be fun after all. 

"Sounds like 'Pilgrim's Progress,' " whispered 
Dorothy, who sat next her, and Betty's imagina- 
tion immediately saw all the girls with packs on 
their backs, climbing the Hill of Difficulty. But 
Miss Whittier went on to reveal her plan. 

"It is called 'Honor's Chaplet,' " she said, "and 
it represents all the women who have done praise- 
worthy deeds presenting their claims for the 
Chaplet of Honor, which is to be awarded to the 
one who best merits it. Of course the characters 
represent women of all time who have become 
famous for great deeds or noble efforts." 

Betty's head gave a nod of satisfaction. The 
whole plan appealed to her, for it meant "dress- 
ing up," and she dearly loved to wear fancy cos- 

"We will have a pretty stage," said Miss Whit- 
tier, who on occasions like this talked sociably 
with her pupils, "and I 'm sure you will all be 
willing to help with the work of decorating it." 

"Yes, indeed," and "We will," said the girls, 
and then Constance Harper asked : 

"Who are the characters, Miss Whittier? Will 
you tell us now?" 

Reading from some papers she held, Miss Whit- 
tier named about thirty celebrated women, in- 
cluding Cleopatra, Queen Elizabeth, Pocahontas, 
Grace Darling, Florence Nightingale, Isabella of 
Spain, Joan of Arc, Queen Victoria, Barbara 
Frietchie, Rosa Bonheur, and many others well 
known to history or tradition. 

"I think," she went on, "you may each select 
the character you prefer. If, by chance, two 
choose the same one, we can easily adjust matters 
afterward. I will distribute papers, and you may 
each write your own name, followed by the char- 
acter you choose." 

"While we 're doing that, won't you tell us a 
little more about the play, Miss Whittier?" said 
Dorothy Bates. 

"The plot, if it can be called a plot, is simple. 
One girl must represent the Goddess of Honor. 
She will stand on a pedestal, and hear the claims 
of the various celebrities. She will wear a classic 
costume, and will have a chaplet of bay to bestow 
on the successful one. She will be attended by 
four allegorical figures, representing War and 
Peace, Art and Wisdom. These girls will also 
wear classic draperies, and look as much as pos- 
sible like statues. The other characters will, of 
course, wear costumes suited to their personali- 

"And is there any dialogue?" asked another 

"Yes ; each character makes a short speech, set- 
ting forth her claims to honor and glory. This 
seems a little ostentatious," Miss Whittier smiled, 
"but that is the way the play is written. Then, 
finally, the Goddess awards the chaplet to the one 
she deems most worthy." 

"And which one is that?" asked Betty. 

"I won't tell that yet," said Miss Whittier, smil- 
ing; "I '11 not divulge that secret until you have 
all chosen your parts, for, naturally, you would 
each desire the one who will receive this crown." 

This seemed sensible to Betty, and she began 
to consider what part she would like to take. 

Miss Whittier had a full list of names written 
on the blackboard, that all might see them, and 
Betty studied them with care. 

The four allegorical figures did not appeal to 
her at all. It would be no fun to stand, perhaps 
on a pedestal, draped about with Greek togas, or 
whatever statues wore, and not even a red sash 
by way of coloring ! 


* Betty McGuire, a waif from an Qrphan-asylum, is an under-servant in a boarding-house. 

Suddenly she comes into a large fortune, which she inherits from her grandfather who died in Australia. Somewhat bewildered by her 
good luck, but quite sure of what she wants, Betty buys a home, and then proceeds to "buy a family," as she expresses it. 

She engages a lovely old lady as housekeeper, but adopts her as a grandma, and calls her so. She takes Jack, a newsboy, for her brother, 
and she selects a dear little child from an infant orphan-asylum for her baby sister. 

With this "family," and with some good, though lowly, friends who were kind to her when she was poor, for servants, Betty lives at her new 
home, Denniston Hall. 

By reason of several circumstances Betty feels sure her relatives may be found, if she searches for them. 

Her search results in finding her own mother, who is overjoyed at finding again the daughter who, she supposed, had died in infancy. 

Vol. XXXVII. -88. 6 97 




The Goddess of Honor was, of course, the most 
desirable, and Betty almost decided to write that 
against her name. But, she reflected, it was 
doubtful if Miss Whittier would think her well 
suited for that. A goddess ought to be tall and 
fair and statuesque, and Betty was anything but 
that. Her round Irish face and somewhat tilted 
nose and rosy cheeks were far from classic in 
type. And, anyhow, probably some one else 
would choose that one who would be much better 
fitted for the part. So Betty carefully considered 
the other names. Pocahontas and Queen Eliz- 
abeth both attracted her. She did not look par- 
ticularly like an Indian maiden, nor yet like an 
English queen, but as she glanced around the 
room, she saw no one that looked more so than 
she ; at least, no one looked like Queen Elizabeth, 
though some of the slim, straight-haired girls 
might make a better Indian. 

But, as she gazed, Betty decided that looks 
would not have much to do with it. The girls 
must depend on their costumes to represent the 
character they assumed. 

And so Betty hesitated between the two she 

Queen Elizabeth would be grand ! In fancy, 
she saw herself in a stiff, quilted satin petticoat, 
and long, heavy train of crimson velvet, edged 
with ermine ; a huge ruff round her neck, and a 
gorgeous gilt crown ! This would be fine. Yet 
there was something very attractive about the 
idea of Pocahontas: an Indian costume trimmed 
with gay fringes and beads ; leather leggings, and 
tall quill-feathers sticking up round her head; a 
bow and arrow, perhaps, and a quiver slung from 
one shoulder ! Yes, it was enticing, but the 
Queen's costume was grander and even more en- 
ticing in color and glitter. So Betty wrote her 
own name, and then wrote "Queen Elizabeth" 
below it, and the papers were all gathered up. 

Miss Whittier dismissed the girls then, and 
said she would tell them definitely the next day 
what character each should have, and, moreover, 
she asked them not to tell any one about the en- 
tertainment, nor to tell each other what role they 
had chosen. So, as the girls were conscientious 
in these matters, they did not tell each other what 
parts they wished to take, but many and eager 
discussions were held about the details of the 
great occasion. 

Betty told her mother of the choice she had 
made, as the pledge of secrecy did not include 

Mrs. McGuire smiled at the idea of Betty robed 
as Queen Elizabeth, but she said : 

"Well, at any rate, you look quite as much like 
Elizabeth as any of the other girls. And we '11 

fix up a fine costume for you. I '11 find a picture 
of the Queen in her most gorgeous robes, and 
we '11 have it copied as nearly as possible." 

"And I must have a lot of jewels!" said Betty, 
clasping her hands ecstatically at the thought of 
such grandeur. 

"Yes," said Mrs. McGuire ; "you may wear my 
necklace, and perhaps Grandma will lend you 
some large old-fashioned brooches. I think we 
need not be so very particular as to their being 
really of the Elizabethan period." 

"Oh, no ; any glittery things will do. I think 
we ought to try some necklaces of big imitation 

"Perhaps we shall ! At any rate, we '11 copy 
the picture as nearly as we can." 

"And it will be a gorgeous costume, won't it? 
Oh, I 'm glad now I did n't choose Pocahontas !" 

"What sort of speech do you have to make, 

"I don't know, Mother. Miss Whittier has 
them, all type-written, and she will give them to 
us soon, she said. But I '11 not have any trouble 
to learn it. I can learn things to recite so easily." 

"Yes, your memory is wonderful. And I sup- 
pose one of the teachers will train you." 

"Yes, in gestures and expression. Oh, Mother, 
won't it be fun?" 

"Yes, girlie; I know it 's just the sort of fun 
you like." 

"Oh, I do ; I '11 walk like this." Catching up 
her slumber-robe from the couch, Betty held it 
from her shoulders like a court train, and walked 
across the room with stiff, stagy strides, holding 
her head very high. 

"Hello, your Majesty, what are you doing?" 
said Jack, appearing at the door. 

"Good for you, Jack!" cried Betty; "I 'm 
pleased that you should have recognized what 
was meant for a queenly gait. I 'm Queen Eliz- 
abeth of England." 

"Pooh ! You look more like the White Queen 
of Looking-Glass Land!" 

"Well, maybe I do now ; but just you wait till 
I get my velvet train and jeweled crown, — and, 
oh, Mother, shall I have a scepter?" 

"Yes, I think that 's part of the costume." 

"Oh, what fun !" and seizing Jack, Betty 
waltzed him about the room by way of expressing 
her glee. 

"Hi, Betty, go slower !" he exclaimed breath- 
lessly ; "queens dance stately minuets — they don't 
•dance breakdowns !" 

"This queen does," said Betty, calmly, but she 
let Jack go, on condition that he would help her 
hunt the library for books containing pictures of 
the Queen. 




Next day no mention was made of the enter- readily arrange matters by a little friendly dis- 

tainment until after lessons were over. It was cussion. But, to my surprise, when the papers 

nearly time for dismissal when Miss Whittier were looked over, this was the result : twelve girls 

summoned the pupils to her in the assembly-room, have chosen the Goddess of Honor ; nine have se- 


She looked at them in a little perplexity, and lected Pocahontas ; seven want Queen Elizabeth, 

then she smiled. and the others are scattering. Now, as you can 

"I did not foresee the result," she said, "when readily see, this state of affairs requires arbitra- 

I asked you young ladies to choose your parts for tion. So I am obliged to tell you that we must 

our little play. I thought that if two or even disregard your wishes, and assign the parts as we, 

three should choose the same character we could the teachers, think best." 




The girls laughed heartily when they realized 
how many of their number had asked for the 
most desirable part, that of Goddess of Honor, 
and they agreed that, after all, the fairest way 
was for the teachers to assign the parts, and then 
there could be no preference. 

"And so," went on Miss Whittier, "I have pre- 
pared full directions for each of you. Here are 
the envelops for you all, and in your envelop you 
will each find the name of the character you are 
to take, with full description of costume, and a 
copy of the lines you are to learn to recite in the 
play. And please remember the appointments are 
final and unalterable." The envelops were dis- 
tributed, and each girl looked eagerly inside to 
see what her part might be. 

"You are dismissed," said Miss Whittier. 
"There is no further occasion for secrecy, though 
I 'm sure it will be better for the success of our 
entertainment not to tell your friends who will be 
in the audience much about it beforehand." 

"What 's the matter, Betty?" said Dorothy, as, 
with Jeanette, they all started homeward. "You 
look as if you 'd lost your last friend." 

And truly Betty did look woebegone. Her 
cheeks were flushed with anger, her lips were 
drawn in a tight line, and her eyes already showed 
hints of flooding with tears. 

"Lock at that !" she exclaimed tragically, as she 
held out her paper toward the girls. 

" 'Grace Darling!' " read Dorothy. "Oh, Betty, 
you don't like your part, do you?" 

"Like it!" cried Betty; "read what the costume 

" 'Simple sailor suit,' " read Dorothy, " 'of 
dark-blue flannel, small yachting-cap, or no hat 
at all. Carry an oar.' Why, that 's a sweet little 
costume, Betty." 

"Sweet little nothing!" cried Betty, stormily. 
"I don't want to wear a common, every-day sailor 
suit ! And carry an oar ! Oh !" 

"What did you want?" asked Jeanette. 

"I wanted to be a goddess," said Betty, hon- 
estly. "But I did n't write that, 'cause I was 'most 
sure Miss Whittier would rather have a yellow- 
haired girl for that. So I chose Queen Elizabeth, 
but I 'd have been satisfied with Pocahontas. But 
Grace Darling! Oh, I think it 's mean!" 

"Why, Grace Darling was very noble and he- 
roic," said Jeanette. 

"Oh, of course. Grace Darling herself was 
wonderful. I just adore her! But I want to 
wear a pretty costume in the play — a grand one, 
you know, like a queen or something." 

"Yes, I know," said Dorothy, sympathetically, 
for she well knew Betty's love of bright colors 
and gay "dressing up." "I think it 's a shame, 

too. Maybe Miss Whittier will let you change 
with me." 

"No, she said we positively could n't change 
our parts. And, anyhow, I would n't take yours 
if it 's nicer than mine. What is yours, Dot?" 

"Queen Elizabeth," said Dorothy, feeling as 
mean as if she had been caught in a wrong action. 

Betty had to smile at Dorothy's contrite tone. 

"Well," she said, "-I 'd rather you 'd have it 
than any one else. Mother '11 lend you her neck- 
lace, I know. What 's yours, Jeanette?" 

"Joan of Arc, and just the one I wanted." 

"That 's nice," said Betty. "I 'm glad you got 
it. But, oh, girls, I wish I had a pretty one. If 
I 'd only had Priscilla or Cleopatra, or anybody 
that wore pretty things ! But 'a simple sailor 
suit !' " 

"It 's too mean for anything!" declared Doro- 
thy ; "it takes the fun out of the whole thing." 

"Oh, no; it is n't so bad as that," said Betty, 
smiling through her gathering tears. "I s'pose 
I '11 get over my disappointment. And I 'm silly 
to care so much, anyhow. What 's Constance?" 

"She 's the Goddess," said Dorothy, reluctantly, 
for this seemed to add another straw to Betty's 
burden of woe. 

"I 'm glad of it," said Betty, generously. 
"She '11 be a lovely goddess, she 's so pretty and 
graceful. Well, let me help you girls with your 
costumes, as long as I have n't any of my own to 
fuss over. I can get an inexpensive, 'simple sailor 
suit' ready-made." 

Betty turned in at her own gate, and after their 
good-bys the other girls went on. 

"It 's just horrid," said Dorothy; "I know how 
bad Betty feels about it, and I 'm going to ask 
Miss Whittier to change it somehow." 

"She won't do it," said Jeanette ; "I wish she 
would, but I know she '11 say if she changes one 
she '11 have to change others, and it '11 be a regu- 
lar mix-up." 

And that 's just what Miss Whittier did say, 
though in different words. 

"No, my dear," she said kindly, but decidedly, 
when Dorothy told her about it. "I 'm sorry 
Betty is disappointed, but several of the girls have 
already asked to change their parts, and I 've 
been obliged to say 'no' to each ; so of course I 
can't make an exception in favor of Betty." 

This settled it, and Betty accepted her fate, 
outwardly with a good grace, but secretly with a 
rebellious heart. 

"It 's such a mistake," she said to her mother, 
"for girls like Kate Alden and May Jennings 
would like to have only simple costumes to pre- 
pare. And they have to rig up as Martha Wash- 
ington and Mary, Queen of Scots ! Either of them 




would rather have Grace Darling, and only have 
to get a 'simple sailor suit !' " 

"It is too bad, Betty dear," said her mother; 
"I 'm just as sorry as I can be. But I can't see 
any help for it, so we must submit." 

"Yes; I know it, and I 'm not going to growl 
about it any more. But it does make me mad!" 

Betty kicked a footstool, as if to relieve her 
overburdened feelings, and then laughed at her- 
self for her foolishness. 

She learned her lines carefully, determined to 
do her part as well as she could, if her dress was 
plain and inconspicuous. 

Her speech was full of brave and noble 
thoughts, and Betty practised it often, and ob- 
served conscientiously her teacher's instructions 
as to inflections and gestures. It was easy for 
Betty to learn by heart ; so easy, indeed, that she 
unconsciously learned most of the other girls' 
speeches by merely hearing them at rehearsals. 

Often she would amuse her mother and Jack 
by breaking forth into some of the stilted lines of 
the play. 

"I am Pocahontas," she would say, striking an 
' attitude of what she considered Indian effect ; "I 
claim the prize, Goddess, because I, in years that 
are past, rendered a service — " 

"There, there, that will do, Betty !" Jack would 
cry. "You are a born actress, I know, but I 'm 
studying my English history now, and Pocahontas 
does n't belong with the Saxon kings." 

"Oh, English history !" said Betty, mischiev- 

Then, stalking grandly up to him, she held ah 
umbrella for a scepter, and declaimed : 

"Goddess of Honor ! You see before you Eliz- 
abeth, the Virgin Queen. A noble monarch, not 
alone in power, but in majestic traits that won 
for her the loyalty and adoration of her loved 
and loving subjects. A queen who — " 

"Off with her head!" cried Jack, throwing a 
sofa-pillow at Betty, who promptly threw it back 
at him, and then ran laughing from the room. 

It was not Betty's way to mourn over what 
could n't be helped, so she went cheerfully with 
her mother to purchase the despised sailor suit. 
They bought the prettiest one they could find — a 
blue serge with white collar and cuffs and a silk 
sailor tie. But though it was becoming and would 
have looked just right had Betty been starting on 
a yachting cruise, it was not to be compared with 
the elaborate costumes most of the girls were 
preparing. And, though it was cold comfort, 
Betty was true to her word, and helped the others 
all she could to make their gowns effective. She 
lent her Roman sash, her embroidered Japanese 
kimono, and her spangled Egyptian scarf to girls 

who could use them effectively. She helped Dor- 
othy with her Elizabethan garb, and Jeanette 
with her Joan of Arc costume. 

As for the Goddess, Constance had a most re- 
splendent robe. It was of soft white shimmering 
stuff, dotted all over with gilt spangles. Billows 
of this material fell from her shoulders in long, 
graceful folds, and swept away in a rippling train. 
A high crown of golden filigree-work was to be 
worn on her beautiful, fair hair, and while in one 
hand she was to hold a classic scroll, in the other 
she was to carry aloft a long, slender, gilt trumpet. 
The costume was superb, and almost took Betty's 
breath away when she first saw it. 

"Oh, Constance," she said, "let me try it on, do ! 
Just for a minute ! I '11 be awfully careful of it." 

Constance agreed, of course, though she se- 
cretly feared that impetuous Betty might tear the 
gauzy stuff. 

But Betty donned it almost reverently, and 
then, imitating Constance's pose, as she had seen 
her at rehearsal, she began : 

"The Goddess of Honor I ! To those who seek 
me I am hard to win. To those who nobly and 
unflinchingly do their bravest and best, I come un- 
summoned ! I am here to-night, bearing the 
Chaplet of Honor, the award of Fame. To whom 
shall I award it? Who best deserves the greatest 
guerdon, the highest honor Fame can bestow? 
Speak, noble women of all time, speak, and claim 
your due !" 

So often had Betty heard Constance declaim 
these ringing lines at rehearsal that she knew 
them as well as her own, and so inspired was she 
by the beautiful raiment she had on that her ora- 
tory was quite in spirit with the character. 

"Good gracious, Betty !" said Constance, "I 
did n't know you could recite so well. Try your 
own speech now ; it 's a good chance to rehearse. 
But get out of that gown first. I 'm terribly 
afraid you '11 catch it on something." 

"No, I won't," said Betty, stepping gingerly out 
of the glistening mass as it fell about her feet. 
"Now listen to mine." 

She recited the lines Grace Darling was sup- 
posed to speak, and so earnestly did she tell of the 
noble work she had done in saving life that it 
seemed as if the most stony-hearted of goddesses 
must be moved to award her the Chaplet of Honor. 

It was not known even yet who should receive 
the wreath. Each girl was expected to do her 
best, and after all had taken part, the Goddess 
would make the award. Of course it was ar- 
ranged beforehand who should have it, but, as 
this was not known, each secretly hoped for it. 

At last the day of the great event arrived. 

The entertainment would begin at eight o'clock, 




but the girls were requested to be at the school at 
half-past seven. 

Some of them dressed at home and came all 
ready for the stage, but those who had more 
elaborate or eccentric costumes brought them 
with them and dressed at the school. Betty dressed 
at home, for her sailor suit could easily be worn 
under a light coat. She went with a heavy heart, 
for, though she had scolded herself for being a 
silly, and had forced herself to make believe she 
did n't mind, yet when the evening arrived, and 
she saw many of the other girls in glittering, 
fanciful dresses, she felt again the bitter disap- 
pointment of her plain little frock. 

"Remember, Betty girl," said her mother, as 
they separated, Betty to go to the school-room 
and Mrs. McGuire to the audience-room, "you 
must make your success by your own work to- 
night. The others may have beautiful trappings, 
but you must win out by your really good work in 
declamation. Win the hearts of the audience by 
your pathetic story of Grace Darling's work, and 
you may represent the part better than those who 
have elaborate costumes do theirs." 

Betty smiled, knowing her mother's advice was 
good, and yet unable to repress a little feeling of 
envy as she saw the resplendent figures all around 
her. But she could and did help showing it. 

She went about among the girls, helping one or 
another to adjust her adornments, or prompting 
some one who was frantically rehearsing her 

"I can prompt any of you, if you need it," said 
Betty, laughing, "for I do believe I know every 
line of this whole play. I did n't try to learn it, 
but I 've heard it so often, it sticks in my head." 

At eight o'clock Miss Whittier marshaled them 
in order to go on the stage. Of course the cur- 
tain was still down, as the Goddess had not yet 
taken her place, but after its rising the others 
were to enter one by one and address themselves 
to the arbiter of their fates. They waited, almost 
breathlessly, in the hush that always comes before 
the lifting of a curtain. 

"Where is Constance Harper?" asked Miss 
Whittier, in a whisper, of another teacher. 

"I don't know," was the reply. "I supposed, of 
course, she was here. She said she 'd dress at 
home, as her robe is so frail, and that she 'd be 
here, all ready to go on the stage, at quarter to 

"Dear me," thought Betty, "Constance is nearly 
always late, but I thought she 'd be on time to- 

Of course, at such entertainments, no one is 
greatly surprised if the performance is a little 

delayed, but the absence of Constance seemed 
ominous to Miss Whittier. 

"f think we 'd better send for her," she began, 
when a man came in, in breathless haste. He 
carried a large white box, and, going straight to 
Miss Whittier, he said rapidly : 

"Miss Constance, ma'am, she sprained her ankle 
— just now. She slipped coming down-stairs, and 
she can't walk nohow." 

"Sprained her ankle !" cried Miss Whittier. 
"Can't she be here to-night? Who are you?" 

"I 'm Mrs. Harper's coachman, ma'am ; and 
Miss Constance she was all dressed in her angel 
clothes and all, and jest goin' to get in the ker- 
ridge, when she slipped on the shiny stair, and her 
high-heeled slipper twisted somehow, and she 
jest sprained her ankle. So Mrs. Harper, soon 's 
she could, she got the party clo'es offen her, and 
she 's sent them to you, 'cause she says somebody 
else '11 have to do Miss Constance's piece to- 

"Oh!" cried Miss Whittier, clasping her hands. 
"What can we do? But we must do something 
quickly. Lena Carey, you 're about Constance's 
size; can't you take the part of Goddess?" 

"Oh, I 'd love to, Miss Whittier," said Lena, 
looking longingly at the spangled white mass in 
the box, which had just been opened, "but I don't 
know a word of her lines. It 's all I can do to 
remember my own." 

"What shall I do!" cried Miss Whittier, in 
despair. "Does anybody know the Goddess's part? 
Oh, why did n't I think to have an understudy !" 

Betty hesitated. It seemed presumptuous for 
her to offer, for she well knew she did n't look 
like Miss Whittier's idea of a Goddess of Honor. 
But no one else volunteered, so she said : 

"Miss Whittier, I don't look right, I know, but 
I know every one of Constance's lines perfectly." 

"You blessed child !" cried Miss Whittier ; "do 
you really? Are you sure, Betty?" 

For answer, Betty began rapidly, and with no 
attempt at dramatic effect: 

"The Goddess of Honor I ! To those who seek 
me I am hard to win. To those who nobly and 

"That will do!" said Miss Whittier, smiling 
in spite of her anxiety. "Get out of that sailor 
suit, Betty, just as quick as you can, and get into 
Constance's things." 

"Yes 'm," said Betty, her voice thrilling with 
intense excitement, "yes, Miss Whittier. I've been 
in them before, and I know just how they go." 

Several deft pairs of hands gave assistance ; 
Miss Whittier herself gathered up Betty's loose 
curls into a classic knot, and so well did she ar- 
range it that, when the gilt crown was in place, 




the whole effect was harmonious, and Betty's dess, and on either side were two lower pedestals, 

sparkling eyes lit up a face that any goddess might occupied by her allegorical attendants, who, al- 

be pleased to own. ready in place, were wondering what had hap- 

Mindful of Constance's injunctions about tear- pened to the Goddess they were to serve. 


ing the delicate fabric, Betty gathered up her 
train and followed Miss Whittier to the stage. 

As she passed, Dorothy took opportunity to 
whisper, "Oh, I am so glad" ; and Jeanette gave 
her a loving pat as she went by. 

The stage was draped entirely with white 
cheese-cloth, thickly sprinkled with gilt paper 
stars. A large pedestal stood ready for the God- 

Betty needed no instructions. She knew every 
pose Constance had been taught to take, as well 
as the lines themselves. Poising herself grace- 
fully, she lifted her outstretched arm, with the 
long, slender trumpet, and placed the mouthpiece 
to her lips. 

"Beautiful !" whispered Miss Whittier, de- 
lighted at Betty's artistic, yet natural, pose. 



"Don't worry, Miss Whittier," Betty whispered 
back; "I '11 do it all right!" 

"You dear child ! You 've saved the day for 
us all. I know you '11 do it with credit to us all.'' 

Then Miss Whittier went in front of the cur- 
tain, and in a few words told of Constance's acci- 
dent, and explained that her part would be taken 
by Miss Elizabeth McGuire, for whom she begged 
indulgence if not perfect in her part. 

Betty, behind the curtain, heard the applause, 
and thinking how surprised Jack and her mother 
would be, she stood motionless as the curtain rose. 

Another storm of applause broke forth at the 
beautiful picture, and when it subsided, Betty, 
with just the least tremor of excitement in her 
voice, began : 

"The Goddess of Honor I ! To those who seek 
me I am hard to win. To those who nobly and 
unflinchingly do their bravest and best, I come 
unsummoned !" 

The speech was not of great literary value ; 
those in amateur entertainments rarely are; but 
Betty was a good elocutionist and full of dramatic 
instinct. Moreover, her sudden change from an 
inconspicuous figure to the chief one of all put 

her on her mettle, and she fairly outdid herself in 
rendering the opening speech. 

The play went on beautifully. Not once did 
Betty falter, or forget a line. The others, too, all 
did their parts well, and when, at last, the God- 
dess of Honor placed the chaplet on the bowed 
head of Isabella of Spain, the picture was a beau- 
tiful one, and the house fairly rose in applause. 

"It was n't that I did n't feel sorry for Con- 
stance," said Betty, to her mother, as they drove 
home. "I did, and I do, feel truly sorry. But 
when she could n't be there, and Miss Whit- 
tier had to have somebody, I was so glad I knew 
the part and could take it." 

"You need n't tell me, dear," said her mother; 
"I know too well my Betty's generous heart to 
think for a moment that you rejoiced at Con- 
stance's accident. But I, too, am glad that, since 
poor Constance could n't be there, my little girl 
could be of such help to Miss Whittier, and could, 
all unexpectedly, succeed so well in what was 
really a difficult part." 

"You are a trump, Betty," said Jack, "and I 'm 
glad you had the chance. I 'm downright sorry 
for Connie, but I 'm jolly glad for you!" 


A marshy meadow— a quiet pond— 
A lonely road — and a hill beyond. 
In the reedy marsh below the hill, 
On starlight nights when the air is still, 
Where rushes and cresses grow green and crisp, 
There goes, dancing, Will-o'-the-Wisp, 
Will-o'-the-Wisp so gay. 

We see the gleam of his lantern bright 
Flitting about in the quiet night. 
He balances on the cattail tops, 
Then to the rustling reeds he drops, 
And reeds to the rushes will softly lisp, 
"Here comes, dancing, Will-o'-the-Wisp, 
Will-o'-the-Wisp so gay." 

The east grows gray at the touch of dawn. 
Presto ! Will-o'-the-Wisp is gone, 
For the morning wind blows out his light- 
He '11 dance again on another night. 
When crickets are chirping in grasses crisp, 
Then we '11 watch for Will-o'-the-Wisp, 
Will-o'-the-Wisp so gay. 

Cecil Cavendish. 

This is not a chronicle of an infant phenomenon, 
but just a true story of a bishop, and a boy 
whose life was largely molded by the following 

The oaks of England have always been cele- 
brated, and I know of no finer sight than an 
ancient grove still in its prime, growing in a 
sunny glade of Richmond Park. One character- 
istic of this forest, and I can recall a score of 
them, is that each individual tree seems to have 
had a chance. It has all the room it wants to 
spread sidewise, stretches its great arms wide, 
its feet strike deep into the rich loam, and its 
proud head rises toward the sky, without let or 
hindrance, so that each is perfect in form, after 
its kind. 

With youthful presumption and vanity (for I 
was just twelve, I remember), I had been wrest- 
ling with one of these monarchs of the forest, 
among the most difficult objects in nature to 
portray. I find with all my years of practise, 
the foreshortening of the branch of a tree often 
brings me up standing, but nothing daunts youth- 
fid impudence. My tools were a home-made 
easel, the cheapest kind of color-box to be 
bought in the toy-shop of a small English town, 
and brushes of the limpest. I had been engaged 
in this important work of art for three half-holi- 
days (Wednesday and Saturday afternoon school 
did not then "keep" in England). I had been try- 
Vol. XXXVII. -89. 

ing to get every detail of trunk, bark, leaf, and 
branch. Bad as it all probably was, the careful 
study that I made of that oak-tree helped me 
my life through. 

And, by the way, there is among the studies 
sold for the art schools of England, the repro- 
duction of a pencil-drawing of a lemon tree, 
made in Sicily by Sir Frederick Leighton. It 
was the work of many days. In his lectures at 
South Kensington to young art students (where 
the original drawing is), he used to tell how 
many hours he spent upon it. Truly, it is a won- 
derful study. Every foreshortened branch and 
leaf, the markings and blemishes of the same, a 
perfect representation of a lemon tree. I heard 
him say in one of his talks: "I suppose many of 
you students in this day of impression look upon 
this elaborate drawing as a waste of time. I, on 
the contrary, think it time well spent, for when 
finished I felt sure I knew something, I may say, 
all, about a lemon tree, which has proved of life- 
long value to me in my finished pictures." 

I recall this talk of Sir Frederick Leighton's 
to encourage the numerous young artists whose 
work I see from time to time in St. Nicholas. 
enforcing careful conscientious drawing from 
nature to acquire skill in rendering; appreciation 
of good form and color ; and to gather material 
for design. To compare small things with great, 
this careful study when I was a boy, brought 



knowledge and love of the oak-tree that have 
never deserted me. 

Up to the moment I relate, I had been quite 
free from molestation; my chosen subject was so 
far from the public road that I felt quite safe ; 
moreover, only my head and the top of my easel 
were visible from the highway. The whole glade 
was filled with an under forest of tall bracken 
(the giant fern Pleris Aquilina). Lying down 
on one's face in the miniature forest was a sen- 
sation. It was full of little sunny glades between 
the stems of the sturdy ferns, populated by all 
the little people of the ground : mice, beetles, ants, 
and other small things. It was a popular belief 
among the boys that in one of those thousands 
of bracken stems you would find your name; if 
you cut them diagonally near the ground you 
would see a black marking very like a signature, 
or at any rate a monogram. The singular part of 
it is that no two of them are alike, and sometimes 
something near enough to an initial will turn up 
for an imaginative boy. 

My only audience had been the tame fallow-deer 
of the park. They had become so used to my 
presence and fixedness that they evidently began 
to look upon me as a natural product of the grove, 
and they grew so bold in their inquisitiveness that 
more than once I felt their breath upon the back 
of my neck. 

As I said, up to this moment for three whole 
afternoons all of nature had been my own. Many 
vehicles passed along the distant drive ; none, 
however, came my way, and I rejoiced in my 
security, but, like earthquakes that come without 
warning, my destiny was on the road. A gor- 
geous carriage and pair with clanking head- 
chams pulled up at the nearest curve, and a tall, 
handsome, clerical-looking gentleman came wad- 
ing through the bracken. He greeted me cor- 
dially with a merry laugh and said : "I could not 
resist the temptation of seeing what the youthful 
artist was up to." I wanted to sink into the 
ground, but his cheery encouragement and praise 
made me feel more at ease, until he beckoned a 
lady to follow him. They asked my name and 
age, where I lived, and with a waving, cordial 
good-by they were away to their carriage. I 
don't know that as a boy I felt any particular 
sensation from the little visit, but it proved a 
turning-point in my life. 

At the next sitting this great work of art was 
finished, and when I reached home, the first thing 
my father said to me was : "Whom do you know 
in town to send you packages by the London 
Parcels Delivery Co.? Here is something that 
arrived five minutes ago." Imagine my delight 
on opening it to find a real grown-up artist's 

color-box, a half dozen silver-mounted brushes, 
and under the brushes a card inscribed "With the 
best wishes of George Augustus Selwyn, Bishop 
of New Zealand." Up to that day my education 
had all pointed toward the life of a merchant, 
but the bishop was my destiny ; though his living 
on the other side of the globe prevented us from 
meeting again in this world. What he gave me 
was to him only a color-box. To me it was a 
heaven-sent sign, as a symbol of sacred interest 
in my welfare. In my home I was only a little 
chap who liked to amuse himself with paints. 
After the bishop laid his hands upon me I felt 
myself dedicated to the work of transcribing the 
beauties of the world. 

However, that is not quite the end of the story. 
Three years ago while sketching in England I was 
overtaken by a bad spell of weather ; day after 
day a steady downpour ; but fortunately every- 
thing is packed away closely in "The tight little 
island." There half an hour in the train will al- 
ways bear you to something worth seeing. On this 
particular day, fifty minutes carried me to the 
quaint old cathedral city of Litchfield. The ancient 
borough has now become a place of pilgrimage 
for Americans, although it is a little out of the 
beaten track. After seeing everything of interest 
in the minster, as I thought, I breasted the rain- 
storm on my way to the railroad and had gone 
some distance from the cathedral when the good 
old verger came running after me. His black 
gown flying wildly in the wind, he carried me 
back to show me a great piece of work by 
Foley, the celebrated English sculptor. "I want 
you to see this," the panting verger said ; "you 
know we call him our handsome bishop." And 
truly it was a beautiful face reposing in its 
calm sleep of death ; but imagine my surprise 
to read amid lines of Latin eulogy the name of 
my friend "George Augustus Selwyn, Bishop of 
New Zealand and nineteenth Bishop of Litch- 
field." There lay the helpful friend of my youth, 
— his dear face that I never expected to see again, 
restored to me in the sculptor's marble, after the 
lapse of half a century. 

One little incident that the good old verger 
told me I must pass on: Two Maori chiefs 
visited England a year or two ago and made 
straight for Litchfield Cathedral. Happening to 
meet my verger, they inquired for the resting- 
place of the good bishop. He conducted them 
to the tomb, where they immediately fell on their 
knees. The verger left them to their reverent de- 
votion. An hour later he thought it time to look 
them up. They were still on their knees. Who 
shall say how many kindly acts of the good bishop 
had inspired these semi-savages to this devotion ! 


I know you sometimes travel there, 

For all good people do, 
Across the Land of Must n't, where 

They take such care of you ! 

And you have seen those warning lines, 
The "Must n't Romp or Shout!" 

And "Must n't Eat between Meals!" signs 
They put up all about. 

'Keep Off the Grass!" "No Fishing Here 

"No Wading!" — I declare, 
I think this sign will soon appear : 

"You Must n't Breathe this Air!" 

So, fellow-traveler of these ways, 

My sympathetic hand 
I offer, for I 've lived long days 

In that same "Must n't" Land. 



,# r,d ^ mS 



Author of " The Crimson Sweater," " Tom, Dick, and Harriet." " Captain Chub," etc. 

Chapter XII 


The victory was a popular one. Fellows who, 
left out of the teams under Hopkins and Rob, had 
been bewailing the fact that there were not 
enough players left in school to make up the 
usual dormitory elevens, forgot their grievance. 
How a team which had been formed scarcely 
more than a week could defeat the Second, com- 
posed as it was of veteran players, no one could 

The news of what had taken place in their ab- 
sence met the First Team on the instant of their 
return just before supper-time, and Hopkins and 
Prentiss piled over to Devens's room. Peeble, 
the Second's quarter-back, was there ; he and Gus 
had been talking over the game ; but Prentiss 
paid no heed to his presence. 

"What 's this we hear, Gus?" he demanded 

"I don't know what you heard," replied Gus, 
calmly, "but the score was five to nothing; they 
missed the goal." 

"So you did play those fellows, eh?" 

"We did our best, but it was n't good enough." 

"You must be crazy," broke in Frank Hopkins. 
"You know plaguy well you had n't any right 
to do that. Your business is to give the School 
Team practice and not play games with other teams." 

"Especially with that crowd of disgrunters !" 
added Prentiss. 

"But, look here," said Gus, mildly, "other 
schools let their second teams play real games. 
Why not here? As for 'disgrunters,' I don't know 
anything about that. Langton challenged us, and 
we wanted a game ; that 's all there was to it." 

"Why did n't you say something about it to 
me, then ?" Hopkins demanded. 

"I was afraid you 'd raise a fuss," answered Gus. 

"You are right I 'd have raised a fuss ! And 
I 'm going to raise one yet ! You need n't think 
you can do what you please just because you 're 
captain of that team, Devens. Langton and his 
crowd are doing all they can to make trouble for 
us, and you know it. You 're a traitor, that 's 
what you are! You don't deserve to— to — " 

"Look here, Hop," Gus interrupted, "you 're 
not wearing any medals for giving folks what 
they deserve. I deserved a fair show on your 
team, and I never got it. You don't like me, and 

Prentiss does n't like me. I 've played foot-ball 
here for two years; this is my third; and you 've 
got half a dozen worse players than I am on the 
First this minute. So don'tyou crow about deserts." 

"And this is the way you get even," sneered 
Prentiss. "Stab us in the back the moment we 
are n't looking."' 

"Oh, come, let 's be honest," said Gus, warmly. 
"There is n't any fair reason why the Second 
Team should n't play another team when it has 
a chance. It 's just because the other team is the 
Independents that you 're both angry. If it had 
been any other team you would n't have cared. 
Well, your quarrels are n't anything to me. The 
Second never has played with any team except 
the First, as far as I know, but there 's no law 
against it. You go ahead and make all the fuss 
you want, but it 's nonsense to stand there and 
call me a traitor." 

"That 's what you are," cried Hopkins, "a low- 
down traitor. And you 've used your position as 
captain to make traitors of the rest of your team." 

"That 's not so, Hopkins," Peeble spoke up. 
"We did n't have to play. Gus told us about it and 
said we need n't play unless we wanted to. Every 
fellow went in on his own hook. For my part, I 
don't see what you 're so hot about." 

"I 'm hot because you 've helped Langton and 
his crowd of trouble-makers," replied Hopkins, 
wrathfully. "They are n't the School Team ; 
they 're just a lot of discontents who are sore 
because they did n't make it. And when you play 
against them you — you give them recognition and 
aid them." 

Joe Law came in at that moment and looked 
about the group curiously. Hopkins nodded to 
him and then turned to Prentiss. 

"Come on, Ed." But Prentiss was n't ready. 

"What 's the good ?" he demanded, with an 
ugly scowl for Gus. "Let 's settle it right now. 
I 'm manager of the team, and I don't propose 
to have my work spoiled like this." 

"We '11 settle it all right," responded Hopkins, 
"but not now. You '11 hear from us later." 

"When you like," answered Devens, as they 
went out. 

"What 's the row?" asked Joe Law, anxiously. 
Gus told him. 

"Well, it was a funny thing for you to do," said 
Joe. "You might have known he and Ed would n't 
like it." 





"I did know it, and I did n't care. I don't care 
now. The only thing he can do is to crowd me 
off the team, and that won't bother me a bit." 

But the discipline meted out to him the next 
afternoon was n't just what he had looked for. 
When scrimmage-time came, Hopkins and Pren- 
tiss walked over to the Second Team. 

"Gus," said Hopkins, "I guess we can dispense 
with your services as captain after this." 

Gus nodded untroubledly. 

"Hover," continued Hopkins, "you 're captain 
from now on." 

Hover, the left half, glanced at Gus and then at 
his feet. "I — I 'd rather not, thanks, Hopkins," 
he said. 

Hopkins stared. 

"You won't?" 

"No, I 'd rather not." 

Hopkins turned angrily away. 

"All right. It 's up to you, then, Green." 

Green, the right tackle, nodded. He did n't 
look as though he was anxious for the honor, but 
he said nothing. That afternoon the First had 
little trouble doing as it liked with the Second, 
but it was n't because of any special brilliancy on 
the part of the First. After supper Gus Devens 
went over to 24 Holden. Both Hopkins and 
Prentiss were in. 

"I don't believe you have any right to depose 
me, Hopkins," said Gus. 

"I 've got every right," answered Hopkins. 
"I appointed you, did n't I?" 

"Yes, but I have an idea that if I take the mat- 
ter to faculty they '11 decide against you." 

"Try it," challenged Prentiss. 

"Well, I 'd thought of it, but I guess I won't. 
Instead of that I 'm going to get out." 

"Oh !" said Hopkins, uneasily. 

"A good idea," was Prentiss's fling. "Perhaps 
you '11 join the 'disgrunters.' " 

"Perhaps. Anyway, I 'm done with you chaps." 
And he turned on his heel and went out, leaving 
Hopkins looking a trifle blank. 

"I don't like that," said the captain. 

"Pshaw ! He won't be missed." 

"No, perhaps not, although he is a mighty good 
player, Ed, and you know that. But suppose he 
makes a row and gets some of the others to go 
with him?" 

Prentiss considered the possibility for a mo- 
ment in scowling silence. At last, 

"We 've got to do something, Hop," he an- 
nounced. "Look here, why not see what can be 
done with Langton ? They say he played a won- 
derful game at half yesterday, and we could use 
another half on the First." 

"I don't believe he 'd come," said Hopkins. 

"I '11 bet he will, though. He 's always wanted 
to make the team. And there are some others on 
that team we might use. We could promise them 
places on the First and use them as subs; let them 
into a game for a minute or two ; all they want is 
their letters. There 's that fellow Chase; and 
Koehler; and— how about Kingsford?" 

"Oh, he would n't. He hates me like sin; you 
too, I guess. He has n't forgotten that hazing, I 
suppose. Never sees me any more. They say 
he 's got the making of a good quarter, too. I 
guess we made a mistake with him, Ed." 

"Well, let him go, then. You see Langton, and 
I '11 talk with the others. And we want to do it 
right away ; to-night is n't a bit too soon. Come on." 

"Well, I '11 see him, but I don't want to, and I 
don't believe it will do any good." 

Hopkins found Rob at home, but Evan and 
Malcolm were with him. Hopkins had n't en- 
tered number 32 since he had sent Evan spinning 
through the doorway on that first day of school, 
and he found himself confronted by three sur- 
prised countenances. Rob, however, was polite- 
ness itself. 

"Hello, Hop ! Come on in. Sit down if you can 
find anything to sit on. How 's it going? Going 
to kill Mifflin to-morrow?" 

"Oh, I fancy we '11 win without much trouble," 
answered Hopkins, easily. "It was in regard to 
that, in a way, that I wanted to see you. I 'd 
like your advice, Rob. Want to come down to 
my room a moment and let me explain ?" 

"Yes," replied Rob. "Come on." As he passed 
Evan he dropped the lid of his left eye in a por- 
tentous wink. In 24 Hopkins placed him in Pren- 
tiss's easy-chair. Hopkins could be very pleasant 
when he wanted to be, and now he was as sweet 
as sugar. 

"Look here, Rob," he began, "things are n't 
going very well on the team — " 

"You mean the School Team?" asked Rob, in- 

"Yes. We 're badly off for back-field players. 
Of course Law is all right and Simpson is fair, 
but Leary and Hansford are n't what they ought 
to be, and— well, in short, Rob, we need a good 
man there, a rattling good half-back." 

"I guess they 're hard to find," murmured Rob. 

"You are right they are ! Prentiss and I were 
talking it over lately and wondering what we could 
do to strengthen up there. Well, we 've heard 
what a good game you put up against the Sec- 
ond yesterday, and Prentiss thought— or, well, 
maybe I suggested it first— that perhaps you 'd 
like to see what you could do on the School Team." 

"Very nice of you," said Rob, calmly. 

"Why, no, it is n't, Rob. It 's pure selfishness. 




We need a good half-back, and that 's you. I 
suppose you 're having a good deal of fun with 
that team of yours, but, of course, it does n't 
lead anywhere. You come to the First, and 
you '11 get into three big games and have your 
letters. Now, what do you say?" 

"Well — of course—" began Rob, hesitatingly, 
"F 've always wanted to make the School Team. 
I tried pretty hard last year, you know, Hop." 

said the captain, with a fine show of indignation. 
"I tell you, Rob, it 's no snap being captain and 
coach and everything. You know something 
about it yourself now, I suppose, don't you?" 

Rob nodded emphatically. 

"It 's no cinch," he granted. "Now as to what 
you suggest, Hop ; the principal trouble is here : 
you see, I 've made that team up, and I don't 
want to disappoint the fellows. Of course they 



(see next page.) 

"I know you did. You did mighty well, too, 
but last year we had so much good back-field 
material that I could n't find a place for you. I 
tried hard, too." 

"I thought that was the way of it," answered 
Rob, gratefully. "You know there are fellows 
who accuse you and Prentiss of—well, of favori- 
tism, Hop, but I dare say that 's not fair." 

Hopkins looked uneasy, but Rob's face was 
blankly innocent. 

"They don't know what they 're talking about," 

might get on without me for a while, but — you 
know how it is when—" 

"Yes, but it does n't seem to me that it would 
matter much if the team disbanded after a while, 

"N-no, but I don't like to leave the fellows in 
the lurch. Besides, I don't know what they 'd say." 

"They could n't say anything," said Hopkins, 
heartily. "And, look here, we can use two or 
three or maybe more good men. Of course I 
could n't promise them regular positions on the 




First, but they 'd be certain of getting their let- 
ters, and I 'd put them with the subs and use them 
whenever I could. In fact, Rob, Prentiss and I 
had already spoken of two or three of your fel- 
lows we could find places for." 

"Really? Who are they?" 

"Well, Chase was one, and 
Koehler was another, and — I 
don't just remember who the 
other one was." 

"There 's Shaler," Rob 
suggested. "He 's a rather 
good line-smasher. And Kas- 
ker 's a good tackle." 

"All right. Any one else ?" 

"No. I guess not." 

"Then that 's settled, is n't 
it?" said Hopkins, beamingly. 


"Why, that you '11 come to 
us and that the others we 
spoke of can come if they 
want to." 

Rob dug his hands into his 
pockets, stretched his legs out 
from under his chair, and 
grinned across at Hopkins. 

"No, Hop," he said, shak- 
ing his head; "the only thing 
that 's settled is that you : re 
a good deal of a knave and 
much more of a fool than I 
took you for." He got up. 
"I might forgive you the 
first, Hop, but I hate a fool." 

"You — you won't!" gasped 
the other, surprise and dis- 
may and anger struggling for 

Rob shook his head again, 
gently and smilingly. 

"Not likely," he answered. 
"When I join your side- 
show, Hop, the snow will be 
twelve feet high in the yard 
and the weather extraordi- 
narily chilly. And now, I 
think, I '11 just drop in on 
Koehler and those others we 
mentioned. And I should n't be surprised to find 
Prentiss somewhere around. Good night, Hop." 

Chapter XIII 


The next afternoon, Saturday, foot-ball repre- 
sentatives of Riverport School played two con- 

tests. The First Team met Mifflin School, and 
the Independents went up against Cardiff High. 
For the latter contest Duffield made a few 
changes in his line-up. Talcott replaced Chase at 


(see page 715.) 

right tackle, Powers superseded Cook at right 
end, and Pardee went in for Lyman at right half. 
Pardee was an improvement, and the same might 
be said of Powers, but Talcott did n't fit, and 
Chase was put back in the second half. The 
periods were only twenty minutes long, and, 
although Cardiff had wanted them twenty-five, 
they were long enough to prove the superiority 

From a painting by C. Froschl. 


By permission of V. A. Heck, Vienna. 

Vol. XXXIX.— : 


Of the Christian College, Allahabad, India 

This morning, at breakfast-time, I looked out 
from the veranda of Princeton Hall, one of our 
college dormitories, and saw two elephants under 
the campus trees, leisurely enjoying their morn- 
ing meal. Now, elephants are far from being a 
novelty in India, but it is not every day that they 
come to breakfast on our lawn, under the shadow 
of the mission walls, and I was a little surprised. 
One must not be astonished in this country at 
their mahouts driving them within a compound, 
for the rights of trespass in this part of the world 
are all on the side of the trespasser, and when 
two hungry elephants pass by a fine, shaded com- 
pound of forty-odd acres, and breakfast is half 
an hour late, they go in for their food and siesta 
whether a college happens to be there or not. 
They were munching their large portions of 
breakfast food, and acting altogether as the ordi- 
nary elephant of the circus behaves. It takes two 
hundred pounds of fodder a day to keep an ele- 
phant in good nature, and the pair evidently were 
consuming the greater part of their allowance at 
one time. 

The mahout invited me to have a seat on the 
back of one, to witness the performance from 
above, and indicated his wishes to the gray moun- 
tain under his command. The beast responded 
and knelt, but even then a step-ladder was almost 
necessary to mount. He called it Moti, which is 
the Hindustani word for pearl. Indian mahouts 
or their owners often adorn the animals with the 
finest names. The other one's name I did not 
catch when first introduced, for it takes more 
than a half-year's Hindustani to understand all 
the queer titles bestowed upon the animals. But 

I think it was "Garden of Flowers." "Silver 
Star" is a popular elephant name, and there are 
many "Lilys" and "Roses" among them. 

Moti was a very unwieldy elephant, and a hard 
one to scramble up. He was not nearly so elegant 
as his title. Charles Dickens has said that the most 
ridiculous position possible for a man ever to be 
in is to pursue his hat across a wet and slippery 
street. I believe Mr. Dickens never mounted an 
elephant in India. You step on the beast's hind 
foot, then push yourself up the way climbers in 
the Alps meet a precipice, and, to your dismay, 
discover that your efforts have given the impulse 
to the beast to rise. As a result, you dangle for 
a moment holding on to the tail, then make one 
final upward shove, and find yourself on top. 

The Indian elephant differs from the African 
species; his ears are smaller, and he has much 
smaller tusks. The tusks are cut off the captured 

The African elephant has great, big, flapping 
ears, but he can hear no better than his Indian 
cousin. He also has more ivory in his tusks, and 
in addition his skull is rounded out, whereas the 
head of the Indian elephant has a cavity in it at 
the top which makes a comfortable seat for the 
mahout. However, the Hindustani variety is just 
as intelligent, even though his brain seems 

If Mr. Roosevelt came to India, he would have 
to pay a large fine to the government for every 
one he shot. The government has a monopoly on 
elephants. It has formed itself into a trust, and 
only leases out the privilege of capturing them to 
certain people. Thirty-two years ago, a law was 




of the Riverport Independents. Cardiff was 
plainly surprised, for she had come over expect- 
ing to pit herself against a team of very small 
caliber. She began the game with five substi- 
tutes, but they were soon replaced with regulars. 
In the first half the Independents had no diffi- 
culty in scoring twice, and in the last period 
they crossed Cardiff's goal-line once, the final 
score being 16 to 3, the visitors having made a 
very creditable goal from placement. Duffield 
relied on straight foot-ball ; in fact, the team as 
yet knew little else ; and all three touch-downs 
were the result of steady line-plunging varied 
occasionally by an end run. Of the touch-downs 
Rob scored two and Shaler one. The school di- 
vided its attention between the two games, but 
what cheering was done was mostly for the Inde- 
pendents. The Cardiff game was over long be- 
fore the School Team was through with Mifflin, 
or perhaps I should say before Mifflin was 
through with the School Team, and most of the 
Independents saw the last fifteen minutes of that 

Hopkins's players were plainly in the midst of 
a bad slump, for even in the first game of the 
year they had not played so listlessly or with so 
little gumption. Mifflin made them look very 
small before she was through with them, piling 
up twelve points in the first half and sixteen in 
the second. The spectators saw the contest come 
to an end with scant display of interest; the de- 
feat was so overwhelming that censure would 
have been flat and unprofitable. Silence alone 
seemed appropriate. 

On Monday there was a sensation. The Sec- 
ond Team had learned of Gus Devens's with- 
drawal, and when the team reported on the field 
that afternoon it was minus nine members, seven 
of them first-string men and three of them substi- 
tutes. Green, the newly appointed captain, was 
two men short of a team ! Prentiss was fairly 
beside himself with wrath, while Hopkins seemed 
suddenly to realize that things were going against 
him, and appeared thoroughly discouraged. But 
two First Team substitutes were placed with the 
Second, and practice was held as usual and went 
badly. On Tuesday Gus Devens and the eight 
deserters from the Second reported to Coach 
Duffield, the Independent Foot-ball Association 
having meanwhile received nine new members 
and its treasury the sum of four dollars and fifty 

"I can't promise you fellows positions," said 
Duffield, "but I '11 give you all fair trials." 

"That 's all we ask," answered Peeble, cheer- 

The next day the Independents journeyed to 
Vol. XXXVII. -90. 

the neighboring town of Hillsgrove in three big 
coaches to play the high-school team. Devens 
replaced Chase at right tackle and strengthened 
that side of the line tremendously. In the second 
half Duffield, in spite of the fact that Hillsgrove 
was leading 11 to 6, tried out numerous candi- 
dates. Peeble went in for Kingsford at quarter 
and did fairly well, but seemed unable to get 
speed into the team. A number of new plays 
were tried with varying success, but when the 
last whistle blew the score still stood 11 to 6, and 
the Independents had met their first defeat. But 
Duffield did n't seem to mind. 

On Saturday Overbrook Academy brought her 
First and Second Teams to Riverport and met 
her Waterloo. Hopkins's men braced up and 
barely managed to get the better of their oppo- 
nents, 6 to o. The Independents toyed with the 
Overbrook Second for fifty minutes and ran up 
33 points to their opponents' 5. They had mas- 
tered the new plays and had developed a very 
respectable amount of team-play. The back-field 
had been strengthened by the substitution of 
Deering, formerly of the Second, for Pardee at 
right half, and the center of the line, with De- 
vens at right guard, Jell at center, and Koehler at 
left guard, was invulnerable to anything Over- 
brook had to offer in the way of attack. In the 
second half of the game Duffield sent in what was 
almost a new team and demonstrated the fact that 
he had good substitute material for well-nigh 
every position. The second-string backs, Hover, 
Hinkley, and Tanner, made a strong combina- 
tion, especially when an open game was played. 
Hinkley was a clever punter, and Duffield be- 
lieved he could develop him into a good drop- 

The consensus of opinion after the contests 
were over credited the Independents with having 
shown more foot-ball and better foot-ball than 
the School Team, and fellows began to express 
the wish that the former team and not the latter 
was to meet Adams Academy on Thanksgiving. 
As one boy put it, "The Independents are just as 
much our team as Hopkins's team is, and they 're 
a great lot better. Why should n't we put our 
best team up against Adams? Are n't you sick of 
getting licked every year? I 'd like a change !" 

The Independents came fast the next few days. 
The discouraging thing was that only ten days re- 
mained until Thanksgiving and the close of the 
foot-ball season, and that in spite of all efforts 
Malcolm had been unable to secure any more 

On Wednesday the news spread through school 
that the Independents had challenged the School 
Team to a practice game the following Saturday, 




on which day, following established custom, the 
School Team had no contest, preferring to give 
all her time to perfecting herself for Adams. The 
news was hailed with delight, and the school 
waited impatiently to hear the outcome. When 
it was learned that the School Team had declined 
the challenge there was a veritable howl of dis- 
approval. Rob had little to say in public, but 
there were frequent conferences in Wellington's 
room, and on Thursday morning there was a no- 
tice in Academy Hall announcing a mass-meeting 
to be held that evening "to discuss the foot-ball 
situation." The notice was signed by prominent 
members of the four classes. 

The assembly hall was full when Northrup of 
the senior class called the meeting to order. The 
rival foot-ball coteries were there in full atten- 
dance, Rob and Wellington and Pierce and Mal- 
colm and their associates grouped together on one 
side well toward the front, and Hopkins and 
Prentiss with their supporters sitting across the 
hall. Northrup began by explaining that the 
meeting had been called on account of a general 
sentiment favoring an open discussion of the 
foot-ball situation. "We have," he said, "two 
teams here now, the School Team and a second 
team known as the Independents. I 'm not a 
player and don't pretend to know a great deal 
about the game, but as far as I can learn the 
Independents are doing better playing than the 
other team. A week from to-day we meet Adams, 
and, as you all know, Adams has been beating us 
right along of late. So the suggestion has been 
made that it would be well for us to put against 
them the strongest team we have, whether that is 
the so-called School Team or the Independents. 
And it has been further suggested that, in order 
to determine which is the better team, a game be 
played between them on Saturday." 

Northrup sat down amid loud applause. Wel- 
lington followed and spoke to like intent, and was 
in turn followed by three others, a senior and two 
middle-class fellows. The meeting was clearly in 
favor of the plan outlined by Northrup, and when 
some one demanded that the captains of the two 
teams be asked to speak, there was much clapping 
of hands and stamping of feet. Hopkins got up 
and claimed recognition. 

"We all want Riverport to win the game," he 
began rather listlessly, "and I think she will." 

Mild applause greeted this, while some one at 
the back of the hall called: "That 's what you 
said last year !" 

"But, as captain of the School Eleven, I resent 
this interference by—" he glanced across the hall 
— "by a lot of disgruntled fellows who have 
formed what they call a foot-ball team and who 

all this fall have been doing all in their power to 
make trouble for me and my management and 
my team." 

"It is n't your team!" called a voice. "It 's the 
school's team, Hop !" 

"It 's nonsense to suppose that a team that has 
played together no longer than this Independent 
Team has can face Adams and— and win. As for 
playing the Independents, why, we 're willing 
enough to do that—" 

This met with a storm of approval. 

"I mean," corrected Hopkins, with some embar- 
rassment, "that we would be willing to if it was 
n't that we shall need all the time that is left to 
us to get ready for Adams." 

"You 're right ! You will !" yelled Jelly from a 
front seat. 

"The School Team is the only team that has 
the right to represent the school in contests with 
other schools, and I insist on that right. And I 
hope you fellows will stand by me and — and my 
team, and help us to a victory." 

It was a weak effort, and even Hopkins himself 
seemed to realize the fact. There was some scant 
applause, and then some one called : "Langton ! 
What 's he say? Where 's Langton?" And Rob 
got to his feet and faced the meeting with a con- 
fident smile. 

"All I 've got to say," he announced, "is that 
we think we 've got a team that can easily outplay 
the School Eleven. You fellows have seen us 
play, and you know pretty well what we can do. 
Whether we could beat Adams I don't know, but 
I think we could. Anyway, we 'd like mighty 
well to try. For our part, we 're more than will- 
ing to play the School Team on Saturday, or any 
other day they like, and abide by the results. If 
they win, let them play Adams ; if we win, let us 
do it. It seems to me that 's fair. We all want to 
win that game, and I don't see that it 's going to 
matter much whether the Independent or the 
School Team is the one to do it. The main thing 
is to get revenge on Adams for the drubbings 
she 's been giving us." 

"Do I understand," asked Wellington, when he 
could make himself heard, "that Hopkins refuses 
to play the Independents?" 

There was a moment of silence, and then Pren- 
tiss sprang to his feet. 

"No," he cried, "he does n't ! We '11 play the 
Independents on Saturday and show you fellows 
which is the better. And then perhaps you '11 
be satisfied and stop trying to queer things. All 
I 've got to say is that this school has shown a 
very remarkable idea of how to go about to win a 
foot-ball victory! If you 'd stand by your team 
instead of trying to break it up—" 




But he was n't allowed to get any further, and 
the meeting broke up in confusion. 

"Well, we 've done it," chuckled Rob, as he 
tossed his cap onto the table in 32. "I tell you, 
fellows, I 'in delighted. I thought we might get 
this far next fall, but I never dreamed we 'd do it 
now. If we beat them, we play Adams. Think 
of that, Evan, you unenthusiastic beggar !" 

"I 'm thinking of it," answered Evan. 

" 'I 'm thinking of it !' " mimicked Rob. "Well, 
why don't you say something? Why don't you 
— why don't you do something? I don't expect 
any signs of emotion from Mai ; he 's the original 
human icicle; if Peary had seen him first he 'd 
have saved himself a long trip. But you might at 
least look interested." 

"I 'm just wondering what 's going to happen 
to us Saturday," Evan replied. "What do you 
think about it, Mai ?" 

"Oh, I don't know much about foot-ball," said 
Malcolm, modestly, "but I think we ought to win 
if only on psychological grounds." 

"I beg your pardon ?" asked Evan, with elabo- 
rate deference. 

"Just listen to him!" sighed Rob, admiringly. 
"Is n't he the boy wonder? Prithee, Mr. Webster, 

"Oh, you know what I mean." 

"We know— oh, yes, we know all right, 
Mai ! It is n't that we don't catch your drift. 
Psychology is an open book to us ; in fact, my 
young friend Evan here got out the first patent 
on psychology. But it 's been greatly improved 
since then, and so — " 

"What are you talking about, Mai?" laughed 

"Well, I mean that the— the mental condition 
of a person counts for a lot, the condition of his 
mind, you know. And—" 

"You 're mixed," said Rob. "But go ahead. A 
short lecture on mental philosophy by Professor 
Warne. The class will please come to order, and 
Mr. Kingsford will remove the bent pin from the 
professor's chair." 

"Don't mind him, Mai. Go ahead." 

"Silent contempt for you, Rob. I mean just 
this : Hop and Prentiss and his whole team are 

worried. They 've been losing games right along; 
they have n't got together once the whole season, 
and they know it. They 're— they 're disrupted — " 

"Fancy that!" murmured Rob. 

"And they have n't confidence. On the other 

"Is an ink stain," said Rob. "It 's unkind to 
draw attention to it, nevertheless, Professor. I 
assure you that I 've tried pumice — " 

"Oh, enough of that, Rob!" begged Evan. 
"Mai 's right about it." 

"On the other hand," went on Malcolm, "our 
team has plenty of confidence, we are n't worried, 
and we believe we 're going to win. We have 
public opinion on our side, too ; the school be- 
lieves that we are going to win — " 

"Every one except Evan," muttered Rob, sadly. 

"And all that counts for us," said Malcolm. 
"You take two fellows, one cheerful and confi- 
dent and another worried and doubtful, and, other 
things being equal, the first fellow will win out 
every time. It 's the same way, I imagine, with 
foot-ball teams." 

"That 's so," agreed Rob, soberly. "And that 
crowd is surely worried and up in the air. As 
for Prentiss— why, Gus told me to-day that the 
management is in debt about forty dollars al- 
ready, and they can't get the fellows to pay it up. 
And Hop 's as blue as an Adams sweater. I 'm 
almost sorry for him." 

"Huh!" scoffed Evan. "You 'd never be sorry 
for a chap until you had him down and were 
kneeling on his collar-bone." 

"Wrong. I 'd be sorry, but I should n't let it 
interfere with my duty. And I 'm not going to 
now. My duty is to show Hop that he was never 
intended for a Napoleon or a Julius Csesar. It 
will be a helpful lesson for him and may save 
him mistakes when he gets to college. And now 
I 'm going to bed, for to-morrow is going to be 
a very, very busy day. Thank you, Professor, 
for your few well-chosen remarks. What have 
you got to say now, Evan ? With psychology 
silently working for us, I think we have the game 
clenched this minute, eh?" 

"Um, maybe ; but I 'd swap the psychology for 
another sixty pounds in the line !" 

(To be continued.) 


'A rat ! A rat !" screamed brother Jim, 

As wild he pranced about the floor. 
'Oh, where? Oh, where?" the sisters cried. 

"Why, right in Katy's pompadour!" 

Deborah Ege Olds. 


{A little boy is supposed to speak) 

When I zuas ill and had to stay 
In bed, to pass the time away, 
I turned the things surrounding me 
Into these riddles that you sec. 



Within my room twelve doorways stand, 
Each opening on a different land; 
To north and south, to east and west, 
They lead, but still I love the best 
One oftenest sought with eager hand, 
That opens into fairy-land. 

These doors must be, you see yourself, 
My story-books upon the shelf. 

Blue roses, green roses, 
Growing up the hill ; 

Though no wind is blowing, 
They are never still. 

Blue roses, green roses, 
Can you guess aright ? 

Wall-paper roses 
In the firelight! 



There is a mountain crowned with snow 
Where neither beasts nor travelers go, 
For without warning sign it quakes 
And suddenly a new form takes, 
Or one vast avalanche it slides 
Unhindered down till it subsides 
Upon the plains below, and where 
It towered once is empty air. 
Then wearying of its lowly bed, 
The mountain rears again its head. 

The answer to this one is plain : 
My knees beneath the counterpane. 

Sunlight and candle-light, 
Two merry comrades come 

To play with me, but one is blind, 
While both of them are dumb. 

Sunlight and candle-light, 
They frolic in my room ; 

But when the dusk comes creeping, 
They fade into the gloom. 

Sunlight and candle-light, 
Tell me where they pass 

When all is dark : My shadow and 
My image in the glass? 


; , .'. ; .?:«t > .*. , ; , i , ."; , .*.»»».*.v:V.*r*. ■'..■«*.'.•: .i'.-'.^'. »-•.».*.•■'.». v. ».'.'.*.•.'. •.•.s*i*l-t - .'.••!•. v. , .-. , .*>. •.**■•!•*.'.'. •J'I ,> .*.''.'.V. 




Author of " The Lost Column," " The Lost Empire," etc. 

Chapter XVI 


During that winter there hardly passed an eve- 
ning that Thomas Timms, with his ears rising 
and falling like a pair of rudimentary wings, did 
not run through the story before a breathless 
audience at the Bentley Tankard, of how 
he had found Gipsy Yates badly wounded at 
the roadside, and had heard from him how the 
Vicomte had planned every detail of the business ; 
and how Jerry Abershaw had been largely instru- 
mental in carrying it out. Yates confessed to a 
full share in the villainy, and went on to say how 
Monsieur des Ormeaux had for some months been 
in correspondence with those across the Channel 
who schemed the invasion of England. He ad- 
mitted his own share in the treachery, and gave 
information concerning the signaling-station that 
had been established on Ramsey Height. He had 
nothing now to gain, one way or the other, for he 
could never recover from his wounds. He said 
that the Vicomte would betake himself to the 
headquarters of the French army in Holland, 
whence he would signal to Ramsey Height when 
De Winter's squadron was prepared to sail. Yates 
himself was to receive the message, and Aber- 
shaw, on his gray horse, was to carry the news 
to certain French sympathizers in the South, 
where General Hoche was to land. Yates said 
that Monsieur des Ormeaux was a rogue, and 
that the unhappiest day of his life was that on 
which he had put the man ashore at Judas Gap. 
And after that he turned over on his side and 
breathed his last. 

It was Blunt, the groom, who had found the 
domestics of Nether Hall locked in the servants' 
hall. He had come round to tell them that the 
Vicomte's mare was gone from its stall ; but, on 
being informed of the appearance of the masked 
men, he came through the scullery door, and led 
them all out into the garden, where they discov- 
ered, through the opened bay-windows of the 
dining-room, what a calamity had actually oc- 
curred; but they discovered it exactly twenty 
minutes after the Vicomte and Jerry Abershaw 
had got away from the house. 

A quarter of an hour later, Sir Michael, An- 
thony, and the groom were armed and mounted 

in Dedham Street. But there they were able to 
discover no trace of the fugitives. 

Sir Michael, suspecting that the Vicomte's plan 
was to escape to his native land, set off with his 
party eastward, and came by chance upon the 
mare at the osier-beds near Jupe's Hill Farm. 
Hence they proceeded on foot to Judas Gap, but 
arrived too late to find anything but the foot- 
prints of their predecessors in the mud. 

The chances were that the fugitives had gone 
off down the creek in a boat. Hurrying back to 
the road, Sir Michael and his party galloped to 
the Cattawade Bridge, and there found Roland 
and Cicely safe and sound. 

Further pursuit was beyond the question, for 
by then the wherry with Louis des Ormeaux 
aboard must have gained the open sea. They 
were about to return to Dedham, when Thomas 
Timms came in with the story of how he had 
found Yates on the Bergholt road, and heard his 
dying confession both as to the plot of the French 
and the alarming news that Jerry Abershaw, the 
highwayman, was abroad on the Suffolk side. 

So it happened that, though Gipsy Yates had 
been sent to his account, both the greater villains 
had managed to escape ; the one to the land that 
had given him birth, and the other to the high- 

From that night forth Thomas Timms was one 
of the powers that be. Largely through his agency 
a national danger was averted. For a large body 
of troops was hurried to Colchester; the signal- 
ing-station on Ramsey Height was destroyed, and 
a frigate of war deputed to watch the Hook. In- 
deed, so stringent were the precautions taken, and 
so well was the east coast guarded, that from 
that time forth no other descent upon the Essex 
flats was seriously considered. 

As for the Vicomte, for the time being we lose 
all trace of the man. Certain it is that he re- 
turned to France, or else to Holland ; and how he 
made his peace with the Directory and Generals 
Humbert and Hoche is best known to himself. 
All the good he had done was to lose the life of a 
smuggler and set an even higher reward upon 
the head of the most notorious highwayman of 
the day. 

Beyond doubt, he had no further business in 
England ; indeed, in that country his life was now 
in jeopardy. But he returned, as we know; for 




having in his mind the constant memory of a fair 
English face, he threw discretion to the winds. 
And now, in addition to the love he bore the Eng- 
lish girl, that drew him back to the scene of his 
adventures, there was established in his breast an 
unutterable hatred for his rival, the young officer 
of marines, who had proved himself the better 
swordsman and the better man. But the fire 
within him smoldered in secret, and for some 
months no trace of him could be found. 

Throughout the campaign of 1795, by reason 
of the fact that Holland was now in the hands of 
the French, England was unable to land an army 
on the Continent; and, though the Mediterranean 
fleet rendered all the assistance it could, the gal- 
lant Austrians were left to bear the brunt of the 
matter alone. 

A week after the famous night when he first 
crossed swords with Louis des Ormeaux, Roland 
Hood rejoined a ship at Chatham that was re- 
fitting for Admiral Duncan's fleet. With Eng- 
land and Austria at war with the rest of Europe, 
it was no time for officers to be on leave, despite 
the fact that aching hearts and tearful eyes were 
left behind them. 

And no sooner had the young officer bidden 
farewell to his sweetheart for the second time 
than a letter came to Nether Hall from Mr. Pitt, 
suggesting that Anthony should go up to London 
and become resident in Lincoln's Inn (as the 
Prime Minister himself had done). Thence he 
could attend at Westminster Hall ; and the follow- 
ing year Pitt, the Prime Minister, could offer him 
a seat in the House for a certain borough in the 
west of England. 

Sir Michael was fully pleased with his son's 
prospects, and accepted for Anthony there and 
then. Nor was that young gentleman himself at 
all unwilling to go. He desired above all things 
to see something of the great city of which he 
had heard so much. And therefore it was in the 
month of June that John Constable and Anthony 
Packe journeyed to London together; the former 
to complete his studies in art, the latter to pre- 
pare himself for that political career which in 
later years, under the administration of Lord 
Liverpool, led to so much honor and distinction. 

So it came about that Anthony Packe left the 
village where he had been born and bred. And 
as for the Squire, though the old man had seemed 
to love storming at his son, he grew so desolate 
without him that not even Cicely could make him 
happy and content. So he married the charming 
widow — Roland's mother. 

The journey up to London in the year 1795 
was no joke. The mail-coaches had not been 
long in existence, and competition was only be- 

ginning to get keen. In the first place, they were 
invariably overloaded ; for, in addition to passen- 
gers and luggage, inside and on top, they carried 
"outside" passengers, at a reduced rate, in a 
basket, termed the "conveniency," suspended at 
the back. As for the so-called "flying coaches," 
they were considered so dangerous that no one in 
his right senses would travel by them. The roads, 
in those days, were kept in repair only in the near 
vicinity of the towns; and as often as not, in bad 
weather, the coach sank up to the axletrees in 
mud, the passengers having to alight and put 
their shoulders to the wheel to get it out. In dry 
weather the ruts upon the roadway so strained 
the wheels that they sometimes, and frequently 
in the case of flying coaches, came off on the 
journey; whereupon the coach overturned, and 
the passengers were sent "flying" into the ditch. 
In such cases the "outsides," traveling at half- 
price in the conveniency, came off best, whereas 
the gentleman on the privileged seat next the 
driver as often as not came off with a broken 

A great danger, especially in crossing the tracts 
of waste land which at that time were around the 
capital, lay in the highwaymen, who, even in the 
broad light of the sun, fell upon the coaches and 
post-chaises on the road. Wimbledon and Putney 
Commons, Hounslow and Hampstead Heaths, 
were alive with these "gentlemen of the road." 
From the time when traveling had become general 
in England, there was not a day passed that some 
outrage was not perpetrated, there was not an 
inch of country road in all England where the 
traveler could for one moment consider himself 
safe. Claude Duval, Jonathan Wild, Jack Shep- 
pard, and Dick Turpin, each in turn was the ter- 
ror of the road. 

But perhaps the greatest villain, though at the 
same time, by reason of his youth and extreme 
good looks, the most romantic figure of them all, 
was Jerry Abershaw. At about this time his 
name was in all men's mouths. All efforts to 
bring him to justice had signally failed. On two 
occasions he had been tracked to a house in Clerk - 
enwell ; but, on the premises being searched from 
cellar to attic, no trace of the highwayman could 
be found ; and though he had been seen to enter 
by the front door, the two constables who re- 
mained without had been ready to vow that he 
had not returned that way. 

In those days there was no organized body of 
police. Law and order were left in the hands of 
watchmen and parish constables, as often as not 
greater rascals than those they were there to 
oppose. Sometimes a troop of cavalry were de- 
spatched to the scene of some particularly daring 




robbery on the highroad ; but the soldiers, with 
their heavy accoutrements and trappings, proved 
next to useless in pursuit of the well-mounted 
gentlemen of the road. If Abershaw came to 
London, he came within reach of the arm of the 
law. There were magistrates in plenty, and there 
was Newgate Gaol; but these were of little use 
when there was no one capable of catching the 
rogue. They found no difficulty in arresting poor, 
miserable debtors and putting them safely away 
under lock and key, where they could incur no 
more liabilities. But robbers and highwaymen 
were more desperate blades than the times had 
the wherewithal to cope with. They were al- 
lowed the free run of the roads, and travelers had 
to fend for themselves. On that account, to jour- 
ney to London in 1795 was a very serious affair. 

Anthony and John Constable picked up the 
coach at the county turnpike, but a few yards 
from the gates of Nether Hall. It was that same 
turnpike that Jerry Abershaw had jumped on his 
famous ride from Boxted Heath. 

It was a glorious day in early summer, with 
the trees in full leaf, and the buttercups golden 
in the fields. The road was dry and dusty, and 
the coach swung merrily along. 

Having changed horses in Colchester, they 
were not three miles clear of the town when a 
young man, stepping out of the door of a wayside 
inn, hailed the coach as it passed. The driver 
immediately pulled up; and the stranger, explain- 
ing that his horse had gone suddenly lame upon 
the road, asked if they could take him on to Lon- 
don, whither he was bound. 

He was so exquisitely dressed, and carried him- 
self with the airs of such a very fine gentleman, 
that the driver called him "my lord" upon the 
spot, and a seedy-looking individual, on the seat 
behind Anthony and Constable, volunteered to 
travel in the conveniency if the new-comer would 
refund him his fare, with a bit in addition for 

This the young man gladly consented to do ; 
and after a delay, sufficient to allow of the change 
of places, the coach went on. 

The young man immediately got into conver- 
sation with the boys, entertaining them with 
stories of London, the great city which each lad 
was then approaching for the first time in his life 
with feelings of expectation. He seemed to know 
every coffee-house in the town, and told them 
anecdotes of the clubs, and of the extreme diffi- 
culty in becoming a member of some of them. 

Anthony, who seemed rather impressed with 
the stranger's gallant appearance, asked him if 
he himself was not a member of the most exclu- 
sive clubs. 

"No," replied the young man. "Even I can't 
get in. Though my pedigree 's one of the longest 
in England, they say it 's not good enough for 
'em. And, egad, where 's the shame in it, when 
they 've blackballed my Lord March and the 
Duchess of Bedford ! Think o' that ! My name 's 
Boothby— Barton Boothby— I dare say you 've 
heard of me often enough ?" 

He turned to the boys for an answer. But 
they knew as little of the celebrated Mr. Barton 
Boothby as they did of the Earl of March or the 
Duchess of Bedford, or any one else of all the 
grand people who lived in London town. 

"Ah, perhaps not!" sighed the young man. "I 
fear we have got to look upon our little parish of 
St. James's as the greater half of the world. But, 
egad, we 're wrong ! Ye may be well enough 
known in London even, but it does n't thereby 
follow you 're a famous man." 

After that he was silent awhile, as if, in spite 
of his words, he was somewhat hurt that his no- 
toriety had not extended as far as the valley of 
the Stour. But he soon brightened up again, and 
began to point out to the boys all the places of 
interest on the road. He appeared to know the 
name of every village and inn; and Anthony, 
with a perfect frankness, asked him how it was 
that he came to be so accurately informed. 

"Oh, I 'm always on this road," he laughed. 
"Fact o' the matter is, I 've got an old invalid 
uncle living in Colchester. Poor old boy 's all 
alone in the world. I 'm his particular favorite 
nephew, you know, and I run down on the coach 
every month to see him." 

Anthony wondered that, since he used the road 
so much, he had never had any mishaps. 

"I never fell in with a highwayman yet," said 
he ; "and, to tell you the truth," he added, in 
another burst of confidence, "I 'd not care a fig 
if I did." 

At that they came to an inn, where they were 
to change horses and where the passengers could 
alight for a meal. Mr. Boothby swaggered into 
the place as if it belonged to him, and kept the 
landlord bobbing and scraping until he grew red 
in the face and his bag-wig nearly fell off his 

During the meal they continued their talk of 
highwaymen and the dangers of the road ; for the 
boys were naturally interested in the subject, this 
being the first long journey either had made in all 
his life. 

Anthony told Mr. Boothby how Jerry Aber- 
shaw had robbed the Ipswich coach, and how he 
had been chased by the Suffolk Hunt over Flow- 
ton Brook. Then he went on to tell how the same 
daring villain had broken into his father's house. 




Mr. Boothby listened in rapt attention, ever and 
anon throwing in such ejaculations as "The ras- 
cal!" "Egad, the knave!" and "F faith he did!" 
And when the story was done and the meal was 
ended, he rose to his feet and looked at himself 
in the glass. "Christopher !" said he, "I should 
like very much to come face to face with this 
Jerry Abershaw of yours!" 

For which Anthony thought him the very finest 
of fellows. 

Mr. Barton Boothby asked both to dine with 
him the next evening at Slaughter's Coffee- 
House, in St. Martin's Lane. Constable excused 
himself, saying that he had arranged to meet 
with a cousin of his, who had promised to intro- 

down Ludgate Hill as the morning sun was touch- 
ing the dome of St. Paul's. 

Anthony's sleep had been but dozing through- 
out the night: in the first place, the coach jolted; 
in the second, unused to traveling, he awoke 
whenever the coach pulled up; and, thirdly, he 
could not for the life of him remember when and 
where, on a previous occasion, he had heard a 
man use the exclamation "Christopher !" 

Chapter XVII 


It is not easy, in the face of the well-ordered 
London of to-day, to imagine the same streets 


duce him into the colony of famous artists that, 
before the foundation of the Academy, congre- 
gated in the vicinity of Greek Street, Soho. But 
Anthony accepted with pleasure, and promised to 
present himself at the coffee-house at the hour 

After that they returned to the coach, where, 
as the dusk was upon them, they wrapped them- 
selves in their coats; and after an uncomfortable 
night, with many delays and much changing of 
horses, they arrived at their destination, driving 
Vol. XXXVII. -91. 

a hundred years ago. We can barely realize the 
hardships and discomforts that our grandfathers 
had to put up with ; and on that account, perhaps, 
the days of George the Third seem merrier than 
they were. 

Of course we have progressed. The old, more 
violent customs have died away under the watch- 
ful eye of the police : men no longer run each 
other through in duels or street brawls. To-day 
we think of "battle, murder, and sudden death" 
as among the most terrible things we know. We 




take everything more seriously than our grand- 
fathers did. We look upon life as a grim and 
earnest struggle for existence. They regarded it 
all only as an irresponsible, blustering joke — a 
joke that at any moment might end with the sharp 
shot of a pistol or six inches of cold steel in the 
dark. They had a supreme 
contempt for the dangers 
that were all around them ; 
and we, for the same rea- 
son, look down upon our 
very security from a pinna- 
cle of disdain. 

In this twentieth century 
we dash, in motor-cars, 
along the country roads, 
where once the highway- 
men were wont to lie in 
wait, and the worst that 
can befall us is a policeman 
with a note-book, or per- 
haps a punctured tire. To 
some of us even a Jerry 
Abershaw would come as a 
relief. Nowadays, if we see 
a friend off upon a journey, 
we ask him if he has an ex- 
tra tire. The old question 
was, "Were his pistols ready 
primed?" In a hundred 
years the very face of so- 
cial life has been trans- 
formed — vastly for the bet- 
ter ; we could not deny it, 
if we dared. In a hundred 
years we have advanced far 
on the road of civilization ; 
we have passed from the 
age of pistols and highway- 
men to that of motor-cars 
and policemen; but, if we 
have but a shade of the old 
love of adventure still dor- 
mant under our black um- 
brellas and every-day hats, 
it is difficult to believe that 
the "good old days" were 
not, after all, the best. 

To-day the "Olde House in West Street" could 
never exist. Its reputation would instantly reach 
the ears of the London Detective Department at 
Scotland Yard, and in two hours it would be 
empty from roof to floor. In 1795, though all 
men knew of it by repute, they passed it by with 
a shudder. 

It was situated in Clerkenwell, in the neigh- 
borhood of Saffron Hill. In former times it had 

frequently been used as a place of refuge by 
Jack Sheppard and Jonathan Wild, and was noted 
for its trap-doors, sliding panels, and hollow walls. 
Toward this house, in this same year of 1795, 
there stepped the young man we have already 
met upon the coach, dressed in the very height of 


the fashion of the time. His hair was nicely pow- 
dered, and done up at the back in a queue. A rapier 
hung at his side, the hilt of which was adorned 
with gold; and in his hand he carried, with all 
the grace in the world, a silver and ebony cane. 
He might have but just stepped out of a fashion- 
able club, and seemed vastly out of his element 
in such a district of slums and poverty as that 
of West Street, Clerkenwell. 




Suddenly he stopped before the door of the 
"Olde House," and gave it three sharp raps with 
his cane. 

Almost immediately it was opened ; and the 
beau, with a quick glance up and down the street, 
slipped in. 

He found himself in a passage that was pitch- 
dark, though it was still early in the afternoon. 
No sooner had he entered than the door was 
slammed behind him, and the noise went echoing 
through the house. 

Then a very high and squeaky voice came from 
out of the darkness. 

"Any news ?" 

"Aye," was the answer. 

"From the Stag?" 

"From.where else, you fool? Is my man here?" 

"He 's in the room on the right. Step in, Jerry; 
step in, me lad." 

At that the man began to grope in the dark 
about the passage wall. He seemed to be search- 
ing for a spring that was not easy to find. He 
succeeded in the end, however ; a panel slid easily 
back, and the passage upon the instant was 
flooded with light from a room beyond. But it 
was not the light of day. It came from a tallow 
candle, stuck in the neck of a bottle, that burned 
upon a table in the center of a large, low-ceilinged 

"Step in, Jerry," repeated the man with the 
squeaky voice. And Jerry Abershaw swaggered 
into the room, with his buckles and his sword 
and his powdered hair, as if for all the world he 
was but newly come from court. 

Jerry Abershaw (who of course was never the 
celebrated "Mr. Barton Boothby" at all) was only 
then twenty-two years of age, yet, by his looks, 
he might have been even less. And' surely, in all 

the brawling London of 1795, if we passed this 
handsome fellow in the street, he would be the 
last that we should suspect as the most 




hardened outlaw of his day. As he entered 
bowed to Louis des Ormeaux, who sat at 
table, on the only chair in the room. 

"At your service," said he. 

"Bon jour," said the Vicomte. "At last we 
meet again." 

The man with the squeaky voice now came 
forward into the light. He was extremely thin, 
and bent nearly double with age. His face was 
as wrinkled as a raisin, and very much "to one 
side," as if in early years he had received some 
shattering blow. Indeed, his lower jaw was so 
much out of the straight that it almost seemed 
as if he might have been able to crack a nut be- 
tween his left lower molars and his right upper 
ones. We might be fully justified in this belief, 
on the sole condition that he had never opened 
his mouth ; otherwise we should see at a glance 
that he had no teeth to crack anything with at all. 
This lopsidedness was general throughout his 
features ; for instance, his nose went very much 
to its right, and as for his left eye it was alto- 
gether gone. 

"Tinsell," said Jerry to the one-eyed man. 

"Yes, Jerry." 

"Close the door, and let 's be alone." 

Whereupon Tinsell, turning his head almost 
completely round, rather like a duck when it 
prunes its feathers, examined the wall with his 
only eye. Finally, having apparently found that 
for which he sought, he touched a spring, and 
the panel slid silently back to its place ; so that 
the three men were altogether inclosed by walls. 
There was neither a door nor a window that 
opened into the room. 

(To be continued.) 



When little Johnny-jump-up poked his head above the ground, 
He winked his saucy yellow eyes and then he looked around, 
And saw the sunshine all about and blue sky overhead. 
"I 'm glad I blossomed out in such a pretty world !" he said. 

"I 'm glad the grass is all so green, the earth so warm and brown ! 
I 'm glad I have a yellow hat and such a pretty gown ! 
And I shall stand here all day long and say to everything 
That looks into my happy face, 'It 's spring, you know! It 's spring!' 




The development of the airship and aeroplane 
seems, in some places, to have aroused a slumber- 
ing interest in the old-fashioned kite. It is not, 
however, in the little toy kite, made of a half- 
page of newspaper cr tissue-paper, that this re- 
newed interest shows itself, but in kites of enor- 
mous size, capable of lifting a heavy weight, if 
necessary. Nor is this interest in kite-flying con- 
fined to boys, for grown men have fallen victims 
to its fascination. American young folks have 
sometimes thought it strange that men, even old 
men, in China should have found any amusement 
in kite-flying; and they could hardly believe the 
pictures in books and magazines showing gray- 
bearded Chinese men engaged in this youthful 
occupation. But what will they say now if their 
fathers or uncles "get the kite fever," order a 




giant kite made, and fly it from fields near their 
homes ? 

On this and the preceding page are shown some 
interesting photographs of one of the largest 
kites ever made. It was made by a young man in 
Philadelphia, and attracted a great deal of atten- 
tion from grown people, as well as young folks. 



as may be seen from the illustrations. The kite 
here shown is a little less than thirty feet high, 
and is covered with a thin, tough cloth. It is so 
nicely balanced that every cord and knot on one 
side had to be matched by a cord and knot of the 
same weight on the other side. The lower picture 
on the opposite page shows a man reeling up the 
kite-rope, for so great was the pull when a strong 
wind was blowing, that not even clothes-line was 
strong enough to hold the kite, but stronger, 
woven, sash cord had to be used. 




In these days of flying-machines and balloons, 
you have all probably wondered how the earth 
looks from a point high up in the air, and espe- 
cially how that part of the country with which 


a \V 

'*r*5 J 

. 1» V. 


11 m l 

A bird's-eye view of the author's summer 


you are familiar appears to the passengers who 
are passing by high up over your heads. The next 
best thing to going up in a balloon yourself is to 
send up your camera, and bring down pictures of 
your country house, with its surrounding grounds, 
the intersecting cross-roads, and the fields with 
which you are familiar. 

During some of my leisure hours for the past 
two summers I have amused myself by taking 
kite photographs with a very simple apparatus, 
which cost, including the camera, less than five 
dollars. The pictures are so good, and the pastime 
is so exciting, that I am going to tell you just how 
they were made, and ask you all to try the game 
for yourselves. 

In the first place, I advise you, at least in the 
beginning, not to experiment with an expensive 

camera. The one which I used, and with which 
the pictures which accompany this article were 
made, cost, if I remember rightly, only three dol- 
lars and a half. This camera had what is known 
as a fixed focus, that is, there was no bellows to 
pull out. It was merely a leather-covered box, 
with a small hole in the front, a place in the back 
for a film-pack, and a little lever which, when 
pushed, worked the shutter and made the ex- 
posure. I decided that the easiest way to arrange 
matters would be to have the little lever pulled 
by an elastic band, such as is used to put around 
small parcels. It was held back by a thread which 
was tied around a piece of Fourth of July punk 
about an inch in length. The punk was lighted 
just before sending up the camera, and when it 
burned down to the thread, the shutter was re- 
leased and the picture secured. At the same mo- 
ment a small piece of paper, which was tied to 
the other end of the slow-match, was released, 
and, floating away in the breeze, informed us 
that it was time to pull down the camera. 

The arrangement for releasing the shutter will 
have to be adapted to the particular camera which 
you use. The main idea is to arrange an elastic 
band in such a way that it will keep the trigger 
or button pressed down, and then to draw the 
trigger back into the "set" position by a short 
piece of cotton thread tied around a piece of 
punk, fuse, or Chinese "joss-stick." 

I shall describe three different arrangements, 
and by slightly modifying one or the other of 
them I believe that any camera can be made auto- 
matic, that is, capable of taking a picture at the 
end of a stated time. 

The simplest arrangement is shown in Fig. I. 
In this case the shutter is sprung by pressing 
down a small lever which projects from the side. 
The elastic band, represented by a dotted line, is 
fastened to a small nail driven into the bottom of 
the box, and the thread is tied to a similar nail at 
the top. If the lever does not project far enough, 
get a tinsmith to solder a bit of brass to it. 

In the second case, Fig. 2, we have the type of 
shutter found on most of the folding cameras, 
with extension or bellows front. We must fasten 
the rubber band to the end of the trigger, and, 
if necessary, tie a small stick of wood across the 
top, to tie the thread to. Care must be taken to 
have sufficient tension on the elastic to snap the 
shutter without fail, when it is released by the 
burning of the thread. 




In the third case we have to devise a means of 
working the shutter when the button or trigger 
does not project in such a way that the elastic can 
be tied to it. This was the case in the cheap 
camera which I used the first season. A spool 
was fastened over the button in such a way that 
it could be pushed by a short wooden cylinder (a 
piece of a lead-pencil was used). The wooden 
cylinder was pulled down by an elastic as shown 
in Fig. 3, and was held up in the "set" position by 
a little trigger something like that of a mouse- 
trap. The drawing will make the action quite 
clear, and any boy who has had experience in 
making squirrel-traps will have no difficulty in 
fixing up a similar scheme on a smaller scale on 
his camera. The trigger is shown also in Fig. 4. 
It was made of small scraps of brass and a pin. 

It is best to use a small camera (3^x434), 
and plates will be found more satisfactory than 
films, as it is best to develop each picture as soon 
as it is taken, to make sure that everything is 
working all right. 

Several rehearsals should be had indoors to 
make sure that the shutter snaps of its own ac- 
cord when the punk burns down. 

If the weather is very damp, the punk some- 
times gives trouble by going out. A slow-burn- 
ing fuse is more reliable under these conditions, 
and probably any store that sells fireworks could 
furnish something suitable. The little sticks of 

Almost any good kite will do for the experi- 
ments. We have used everything from a large 
rectangular kite, covered with newspaper and 
made in fifteen minutes, to an enormous box-kite, 

Tis3 T13A. 


Chinese incense (joss-sticks) which you burn in 
summer to discourage the mosquitos can be used 
in place of the punk, and will probably be found 
more reliable in damp weather. The finest possi- 
ble cotton thread should be used in this case. 



which required a couple of days for its construc- 
tion. It is very important, however, to have a 
kite which flies steadily without diving from side 
to side, and, above all things, avoid a kite which 
shows any symptoms of "whirligigs." The mod- 
ern kites, as you probably know, fly without tails. 
The diamond-shaped Malay is the easiest to con- 
struct, but, unless it is made just right, is not 
always steady. We usually put on a tail, sacri- 
ficing our pride, out of consideration of the 

For a small hand-camera the kite should be 
about five or six feet high, or you can use two or 
three small box-kites, such as are sold at the toy- 
stores. A very good way is to send up two box- 
kites to a height of two hundred feet or so, tie the 
strings together, and then tie the main line to the 
knot, supporting the camera at this point. The 
pull on the line must be sufficient to prevent much 
sagging from the weight of the camera. 

There are a number of ways of fastening the 
camera to the string, depending on the sort of 
picture you wish to make. A picture looking 
straight down (such as the picture of my East 
Hampton house, barn, and laboratory) is always 
interesting, though views made with the camera 
pointing at an angle of about forty-five degrees 
are more picturesque. The camera should be 
fastened to a light stick, about a foot long, with 



strong string, as shown in Fig. 5, so as to point 
at the desired angle when the stick is parallel to 
the kite-string. Two short pieces of string are 
then tied to the ends of the stick, and these are 


tied firmly to the kite-string, when everything' is 
ready for an ascension. 

When everything is properly fixed, pull the 
slide of the plate-holder, light the punk, and pay 
out string as rapidly as possible. We found that 
the best way to elevate the camera rapidly was to 
send the kite up to a great height without the 
camera, tie the string to a tree, and then "run 
down the kite," by walking toward it with the 
string under the arm or held loosely in the hand 
in a piece of thick paper. When all of the string 
is laid out along the ground with the exception of 
a couple of hundred feet, attach the camera at 


this point, light the slow-match, and run rap- 
idly back for a few hundred feet, letting the string 
slip through your fingers, and then let go entirely. 
The camera will then rise rapidly to a point very 
nearly over the point at which it was attached. 
This method is especially advantageous when you 
wish to take a view looking directly down upon 

your house and grounds. Of course the kite will 
move toward the point at which the string is at- 
tached as it rises, and you will have to slide it 
back to the proper position by unfastening the 
string and walking forward, say, fifty steps or 
more. All of this can be done in three or four 
minutes without trouble. After the exposure is 
made, run the kite down as before and take off 
the camera. Fasten the string down at this point, 
so that it will be ready for a second attempt if the 
first is not a success. 

It is a good plan to tie a scrap of paper to the 
punk just behind the knot by means of a thread 
three or four inches long. By watching this 
through a field-glass or small telescope you can 
tell the moment at which the shutter is sprung, for 
it flies away in the breeze as soon as the thread 
burns. You will have some disappointments, of 


course. Sometimes the punk goes out, and unless 
you have a paper signal you may pull down too 
soon, and have the camera snap saucily in your 
face when only a few feet away. 

1 have never injured either of my cameras, 
though I have had the kite dive, and swing the 
camera around a circle a hundred or more feet in 
diameter with a terrific velocity. It is very im- 
portant to have the camera hang properly from 
the stick, with its weight carried uniformly by the 
four strings. If this is not attended to, it will 
have a tendency to wabble easily, and the pictures 
will be blurred. The camera and plate-holder are 
sometimes not quite light-tight, and a ten-minute 
suspension in full sunlight high up in the air is a 
pretty severe test. If the plates show evidence 
that light has leaked in, fasten a piece of black 
cloth over the back of the camera with a strong 
elastic band after drawing the slide. A little ex- 
perimenting and practice will show you how the 
thing must be done, and the first good picture 
which you get will more than repay you for all 
the trouble you have taken. 



When Brownies were not in the mind 
Of village people, as we find, 
They met around a factory door 
That evidence of trouble bore, 
And though material was prime, 
All hands were idle for the time. 
Said one : "Since first we were designed 
To either please or aid mankind, 
We ne'er have heard a clearer call 
To work than now within this wall. 
The infant now in crib or chair 
Must miss the aid of outdoor air, 
For here a great need is displayed, 

Through some weak 

business trust betrayed, 
And wheels are still that here 

should sing 
The song that good demand 

might bring." 
Another said : "Ere sun shall 

We '11 prove what art within 

us lies. 
With such a task as this before, 
We would be dull, if nothing more, 
If we turned not our mystic skill 
In this direction with a will 
That must a perfect finish lend 
To every graceful spring and bend. 
So here your Brownie fingers give, 
And make a record that will live." 
Now here was enterprise and zeal 
Where one might scarce expect the deal, 
But look for an indifferent air 
Devoid of sympathy or care. 

Vol. XXXVII. -92. 





Palmer COX- 



There had to be a certain plan 

By which to treat the tough ratan, 

And bring through bending, by and by, 

A shape was pleasing to the eye. 

Some hardly seemed to pleasure find 

In making those by men designed, 

But all their energy was shown 

On strange inventions of their own. 

Where fancy in her wildest flight 

Could revel in creations bright, 

The work appealed to every hand 

And nimble finger in the band. 

Some picking out the parts with speed 

That would be sure to serve their 'need, 

Each striving to secure the best 

Though others suffered in their quest, 

Believing if good start was made 

The road to bright success was laid. 

Sometimes disputes would even rise, 

And warning threats, and smothered cries, 







But haply, though debates arose, 
They yielded ere they came to blows. 
The work appeared so strange they found 
It hard to keep from staring round, 
To see the task that tried the hand 
Of other members of the band. 
While dipping frames around the tank, 
Some fell and for a moment sank. 




But from the benzine and shellac 

Some friends were quick to win them back. 

The singeing flame drew stares from all, 

While scorching clinging fibers small, 

Till work was clean in every part 

And ready for the trimmer's art. 

The task of some was then to try 
With how much ease a babe could' lie, 
A group reviewing as they passed 
To fairly judge, and praise at last. 
A few were made for one alone, 
Which by their narrow style were known, 
But more for twins, and not a few 
Gave back and elbow-room for two, 
Where safe and sound the pair could rest 
As snug as birds within their nest. 

To see the Brownies mated thus 
Without a touch of pride, or fuss, 
A picture made that we must own 
Had something of a lesson's tone. 
No feelings of a better strain, 
That sometimes creep into the brain, 
Appeared to check the smile so meek, 
Or give a coolness to the cheek. 

And babies on a later day, 
When in their carriages they lay, 
With eyes upon the branches cast, 
Or crowds of people striding past, 
Would never know the first to try 
Their carriage was a Brownie spry, 
Or that each twist and bend and braid 
Was by the Brownie fingers made. 

/>AL^£^ Co% ■ 




Author of "A Son of the Desert" 

Chapter XI 


"What do you think of our latest purchase?" 
asked Ted, as they walked on together, and he 
pointed to the slowly moving donkey. "He is n't 
much on speed, is he?" And the boy laughed as 
he spoke. 

"Dorrkeys are not horses," replied Achmed, 

"No, nor camels nor elephants," retorted Ted ; 
"but there are donkeys and donkeys ; and this one 
is of the slow kind; he does n't take any interest 
in our enterprise ; see, he is stopping to nibble 
that bunch of grass. Get up, there ! Get up !" 
(This to the donkey.) "I know you 're not hun- 
gry ; I fed you myself two hours ago." 

Achmed's face wore an expression of quiet 
amusement. "We did not choose him for speed," 
he answered, "but because he looked strong and 
fairly well fed." 

"Well, we did n't get any more than we paid 
for, I think," was Ted's comment. "We have n't 
named him yet ; I say, let 's call him Moleeto. 
That 's Moorish-Arabic for 'speed,' if I recollect; 
is n't it?" 

Achmed nodded in the affirmative. "Very 
good ; it is much like my brother to name him in 
that way. Let him be 'Moleeto, the speedy one.' " 
And the Bedouin lad's features relaxed into a 
broad smile. 

"So be it," cried Ted, laughing; and turning 
toward the donkey he exclaimed, with mock so- 
lemnity : "I name you 'Moleeto, the speedy one' " ; 
which made Mr. Malloly, perched on Moleeto's 
neck, turn a look of solemn disapproval on his hilari- 
ous young master. Like some human beings, Mall'y 
liked best the fun which he himself instigated. 

Our friends now ascended a bit of rising 
ground, and saw, beyond and below them, a wide, 
sandy plain, intersected by dry watercourses, and 
with the foot-hills of the Atlas range forming the 
horizon line more than thirty miles away. They 
had advanced but slowly, and had consumed 
many hours in accomplishing as much distance 
as they had covered in an hour when mounted on 
spirited Arab horses. 

When Achmed had made the arrangement with 
the Sheik Ali Ben Mohammed, he had gone for- 
ward alone, down upon this sand-tract, among 
the several caravans encamped there, and Ted 

had remained behind on the crest of the hill ; now 
they both descended the slope together, and slowly 
advanced toward the nearest caravan. 

There were four groups, four caravans, in all : 
one large one, Ali Ben Mohammed's, and three 
smaller ones. These groups were made up, each, 
of tents, camp-luggage, merchandise piled up, 
camels, a few donkeys, many dogs, and a good 
number of Arabs with their black servants or 
slaves. Ali Ben Mohammed's caravan showed 
the greatest signs of wealth : in numbers, and 
size and quality of tents, and in the over- 
bearing spirit of the sheik's large family— 
these were the outward and visible signs of 
worldly prosperity, according to Moroccan stan- 
dards. But although the Sheik Ali was reported 
to be rich, he was also greedy for more riches, as 
was hinted when our two boys were received 
with the usual salutation, "Salaam Aleikoum," by 
the sheik's oldest son, a man of about forty years. 
"My father sends me word to make you wel- 
come," he said, with a courtly smile and bow. 
"He is detained unjustly in Tangier. We shall 
start soon under my leadership ; my revered 
father will overtake us easily on a fast riding- 
camel before many hours have passed." 

Ted drew back a step, and glanced at Achmed 
for a hint as to their line of action. But the 
Bedouin lad appeared not to notice this, and re- 
plied calmly : "We will remain with Ali Ben Mo- 
hammed's son ; his father is a friend of my 
friend, the British consul in Tangier. It is well 
for friends to draw together." 

This ready reply seemed to please the sheik's 
son, and he moved his arm toward a small white 
tent placed near the great central circular tent or 
pavilion wherein the sheik's own family dwelt. 
"There is the abode of our guests," he said. "The 
tent is theirs." And he directed a Nubian lad to 
lead the donkey and his masters over to their tent. 

The encampment was a busy and noisy place, 
with men giving orders, dogs barking and fight- 
ing, and a camel occasionally snarling in protest 
when a burden heavier than he liked was bound 
upon him. The four caravans were in four well- 
defined groups, set within a circle of a half-mile. 
The water for all, men and animals, was drawn 
from a well not far from Sheik Ali's pavilion ; 
and this central meeting-place was continuously 
crowded, and was the scene of many quarrels, 
and sometimes of bodily violence. 




Ted and Achmed strolled about the camp, but 
did not go far beyond the general boundaries of 
their own caravan. The same idea was in both 
their minds, underlying their natural curiosity 
to see what might be seen. This idea was— the 
suspicion, the dread lest they should find the Rus- 
sian spy somewhere in the field. "Do you suppose 
he knows where we are and what we are about?" 
queried Ted, as he and Achmed were talking the 
matter over. 

"I believe he does; just that," was his com- 
panion's reply, in a decided tone. "He is shrewd 
and determined, and he is going to reach the Sul- 
tan's ear before us if he possibly can. When a 
man like that — " 

Here Ted noticed something peculiar in Ach- 
med's voice ; he had learned to be on his guard, 
and he glanced from under his eyelids at 
Achmed's face. It was unruffled outwardly, but 
Achmed was now moving his lips as if talking, 
yet not uttering a sound. Then, in Arabic, softly, 
Achmed said : "Notice man beyond kneeling 
camel, on left !" 

They were at that moment walking past the 
well, with its crowd of pushing, scolding camel- 
drivers and donkey-boys. Ted glanced in the di- 
rection indicated by his companion, for an in- 
stant only, then off in another direction, both 
keeping up their careless, sauntering gait. 

Fully a minute Achmed waited, then, turning 
leisurely in a circuit toward their tent, and with- 
out looking at Ted, he asked: "Did you see him?" 

"What, that man beyond the kneeling camel ? 
I did. Was he the Russian?" inquired Ted, in 
some surprise. 

"I believe so," came Achmed's reply. "I saw 
him before he turned away his face; he has 
changed the cut of his beard, but I cannot be mis- 
taken ; he is the man." 

The two young fellows now entered their tent, 
and sat down on some luggage, in silence ; both 
were deliberating as to their best course of ac- 
tion : whether to go at once back to Tangier, or 
to keep on and take chances of outwitting the 
Russian. They now discussed the problem in all 
its phases. 

Finally they decided to wait for the sheik's 
return ; and, thus waiting, matters shaped them- 
selvesquite differently from whatthey had foreseen. 

Two of the other three caravans were now evi- 
dently preparing to break camp. One was going 
to Tetuan, east of Tangier, and the other was 
setting out for Rabat, on the western coast, so 
the sheik's son explained to them. Presently 
night came on, and the two lads made them- 
selves as comfortable as possible in their tent; 
the sheik's son had already shown himself hos- 

pitable in sending food to them. During the night 
they took turns in watching, but nothing startling 
occurred, although at one time, for a half-hour, 
keen-scented Mall'y became uneasy, and sniffed, 
and muttered, and passed his little paw several 
times over Ted's face, as if to make sure his 
master was really there. During this suspicious 
period the two boys talked together in low tones, 
intending that if anybody was prowling around 
their tent, he might know that they were awake. 

As soon as dawn came, they felt safer ; and 
both dropped off into a sound sleep, which they 
much needed. And the sun had been up more 
than two hours when a servant from the sheik's 
pavilion came to their tent door and awakened 
them, bringing them a well-cooked stew of goat's 
flesh and carrots. After eating this, they went 
forth and took a good look around ; and, with one 
glance, they discovered that the third caravan 
was gone ; it had departed promptly at dawn. 

Here was a new problem arising. Was the 
Russian attached to the departed caravan, or to 
their own? Ted put that question to Achmed, 
and Achmed replied: "My brother will wait 
quietly here, and I will seek the answer from the 
lips of the sheik's son." 

Which he did ; and in a short time he returned 
from the great central striped pavilion, and re- 
ported that a man, a European, calling himself 
Petrovsky, in company with a Moor, had been no- 
ticed by the sheik's son in the now departed cara- 
van ; also it was told Achmed that that caravan 
was going to Fez, or to Mekinez, somewhat be- 
yond, toward the west. The young Bedouin also 
brought the information that Sheik AH Ben 
Mohammed's caravan was to break camp early in 
the afternoon, and that the sheik himself would 
overtake them near the Dranek Pass, a gateway 
through the rugged Atlas foot-hills. "Not as 
good news as I could wish, do I bring my 
brother," was Achmed's remark, made somewhat 
grimly, "but it might be worse ; and powerful 
Allah is on the side of right." 

That afternoon, as promised them, the caravan 
got under way. The boys watched the proceed- 
ings with interest mingled with impatience. At 
last the camels were all laden, and the order to 
march was given by the sheik's son, who rode 
upon a beautiful gray horse, which he found dif- 
ficulty in restraining to the slow pace of a cum- 
bersome camel-caravan. The young sheik was a 
good horseman and somewhat vain of his skill, 
and put his spirited steed through all sorts of 
paces, as he darted about from one part of the 
cavalcade to another, directing by voice and ges- 
ture the movements of his men. 

That night they encamped, having made, as the 




boys judged, some ten miles. At dawn, the next 
morning, they started again, and kept up the 
march all day, stopping only an hour at noon. 


This brought them nearly to the entrance of the 
Dranek Pass, through which, probably, the pre- 
ceding caravan, with Petrovsky and his Moorish 
ally, had traveled several hours in advance of them. 
As if fate wished still further to test them by 
putting other difficulties in their path, a messen- 
ger on a swift riding-camel now overtook them; 
and when, in due time, his errand was made 
known to our impatient young friends, it was to 
this effect, as stated to them by the Sheik Ali's 
son: "My lordly and well-wishing father," he 

exclaimed, with tones and gestures of anger and 
regret, "has fallen under the civil power of an 
enemy at Tangier ; and his enemy will not allow 
my lordly father to join us; 
he makes false charges of 
debt; he threatens prison re- 
straint. There is no help for 
it ; we must wait here ; I my- 
self may need to go back to 

The disappointed boys re- 
ceived the unpleasant news 
with outward calm ; but, as 
soon as they were alone in 
their tent, Ted broke out into 
exclamations of vexation. 
"The old cheat !" he cried. 
"He 's a greedy old thief, 
like most of these fellows. 
He 's probably been outgen- 
eraled by some other crafty 
Tangier merchant shrewder 
than himself." 

Achmed said little, but re- 
flected deeply. At last he 
spoke : "We must not delay 
longer ; I shall go forward ; 
as for my brother, if he — " 

"Well, Achmed," broke in 
Ted, "if you think I 'm going 
to let you go ahead alone, 
you 're greatly mistaken. 
This is a bit of a fix we 're 
in, I see plainly ; but we must 
do the best we can ; if the 
caravan is to stay glued to 
this spot for a week, we need 
not stay with it." With 
which loyal speech he threw 
/ jy- • ' his arm over Achmed's shoul- 

der, and gave him a friendly 
sort of bear caress. "I 'm 
with you," he added reso- 
lutely. "Yes, and so is 
Mall'y, and likewise Moleeto, 
the speedy one. Let 's push 
on as soon as possible through the Dranek Pass, 
and then — hurrah for Fez !" 

Chapter XII 


"Well," remarked Ted, as our two friends pro 
ceeded toward the huge rock-hewn gateway of 
the Dranek Pass, "Petrovsky thinks he is ahead 
of us in this game ; perhaps he is ; but we will 
give him a good struggle yet." 




Thus they entered the rugged pass, a mile in 
length, with steep sides nearly all the way, and 
with but few signs of animal or vegetable life ; 
here and there a vine or other plant could be 
seen clinging in some crevice, and one skulking 
jackal was visible, but kept a long distance away. 

Achmed had said but little, and seemed deeply 
pondering some hard problem. The donkey, with 
the monkey perched on his neck, was slightly in 
advance. Presently Achmed, in a low voice, 
spoke : "A serious difficulty faces us, my brother. 
I had the hope that we might, by joining the cara- 
van of Ali Ben Mohammed, have an even chance 
with the Russian of reaching Fez and seeking an 
audience with the Sultan. But now he is at least 
ten miles, perhaps twenty, in advance of us, and 
he will hurry as rapidly as possible ; he will reach 
the Sultan's ear many hours before we arrive." 

Ted's face grew thoughtful and anxious as he 
listened. "What you say, Achmed, certainly 
seems to be true. But I suspect that you have 
some plan in your mind. What is it?" 

The dark Bedouin face lighted at the implied 
compliment, and Achmed said: "I have feared 
this, and I have inquired carefully, as you know, 
of all kinds of people at Gibraltar, and at Tan- 
gier, and elsewhere. More than this, last night I 
had a dream; it was as if some winged creature, 
an angel or a great bird, flew over my head, back 
and forth ; I could see naught except the blue 
sky, when I looked upward, but I could feel the 
rush of air from the creature's pinions ; and there 
came to my ears the words, 'Wezzan, Wezzan,' 
several times repeated." 

"Yes, that is the name of a large Moorish 
town ; I know that much," Ted responded, with a 
blank look on his face. "It is situated not over 
five miles toward the west after we leave the 
Dranek Pass." 

Achmed nodded assent, and continued, in his 
quiet, decided way: "That was my dream; and 
after I awoke I suddenly remembered— what I 
had gathered from various persons— that the 
power of the sherif of Wezzan is great, and is 
second, in all Morocco, to the Sultan's only. Is 
not that so, Brother? You have read many books, 
while Achmed can read more easily the minds 
and hearts of men." 

"Quite so," replied Ted. "It is a fact that the 
sherifs of Wezzan, being of the direct line of 
Mohammed the Prophet— which not all the sul- 
tans have been — hold great influence over the peo- 
ple, and even dictate the actions of the Sultan 
himself at times." 

"That is what I also have learned," said Ach- 
med. "And I now see that so important a mes- 
sage as I bear to the Sultan, he will not agree to, 

until he has had it ratified by the sherif of Wez- 
zan. The sherif represents the religious forces 
of the country ; and a word from him can arouse 
or allay a mighty wave of religious fervor from 
Algeria to Marrakesh ; this religious force the 
Sultan must be careful to keep in harmony with 
his political policy. Therefore, my brother, I be- 
lieve that when the Russian emissary reaches Fez, 
even if the Sultan, in his kasbah [the citadel or 
castle], gives him audience and approval, the Sul- 
tan .will send a rekkah [a courier] to Wezzan to 
secure the sherifs approval ere any compact is 

Ted looked intently at the Bedouin's keen face 
during this wise speech, and admired him greatly. 
"Achmed," he exclaimed, "you are correct in your 
judgment. Let us push straight toward Wezzan 
and the sherif, as soon as we get out of this 
pass. But how about the dwellers in Wezzan ? 
Are they not fanatical? Will it be safe for us— 
for me?" 

Achmed laid his hand affectionately on Ted's 
shoulder, and said, with assurance : "My brother 
need have little fear. He now wears his gar- 
ments of Moghreb al Acksa [Morocco] like one 
born in the land; and as for the speaking, leave 
that always to me." 

The journey to the sacred city of Wezzan was 
uneventful. Our little party made as good time 
as was possible. When they emerged from the 
rugged, barren pass, they found themselves in a 
country with rich soil, many small streams, and 
abundant vegetation. The borders of the streams 
were fringed by tall oleanders in full blossom; 
there were groves of the gum-cistus and carob- 
trees on the gentle slopes of the hills ; and little 
flocks of bright yellow goldfinches occasionally 
flew across their path. 

In about two hours they crossed a long ridge 
which was like a vast furrow made by some 
giant's plow over the land, and they saw Mount 
Sarsar for the first time. Guided by that well- 
known landmark, they worked their way through 
a dense forest of olive-trees, and across another 
gigantic "furrow," and there caught their first 
sight of Wezzan ; a picturesque white town it 
was, snugly planted in a valley and backed by 
high, steep hills. 

Although Achmed maintained an outward air 
of indifference, as they approached the sacred 
community, and gave a mechanical greeting to 
each person whom they met, he and Ted were both 
anxious regarding their entrance into the place. 
Achmed, looking keenly about him from beneath 
the folds of his voluminous haik, decided that 
they would best halt outside the walls, at the edge 
of the sok, or market-place. 




So they prepared to camp, Achmed attending 
to the getting of a tent and food, while Ted, keep- 
ing well covered, and merely muttering Arabic 
blessings on the bystanders, looked after his faith- 
ful fellow-travelers Mall'y and Moleeto. 


Ted saw that here was a time when he might 
make use of his simple medicines, and, at his sug- 
gestion, Achmed let drop remarks, among the 
crowd, regarding the great learning and skill of 
his companion. And the expression "The Young 
Wizard of Morocco" became the fixed title which 
Achmed bestowed on his young American 
"He is not only a thaleb," he said, to 
impressive tones, not only a learned 
"but he is a skilful thabib [doctor] as 
XXXVII. -93-94. 

all, with 

well." And that brought, at once, a line of appli- 
cants for medicine. Some of these persons really 
were sick, and others were merely inquisitive and 
wonder-loving. To the really sick people Ted 
gave such remedies as he thought they needed ; 
to others, who seemed en- 
tirely well, he gave bread- 
pills, and water colored 
with black licorice. 

In the minds of all savage 
or primitive people the arts 
of healing and of magic are 
closely associated ; both are 
blindly worshiped. Know- 
ing this, our young friend 
Ted suddenly bethought 
him to strengthen his hold 
on the crowd by the use of 
a lens of his field-glass as a 
burning-glass. With Ach- 
med's clever seconding, and 
certain preliminary ges- 
tures toward the sun, Ted 
easily brought the scorch- 
ing rays of "Old Sol" into 
such focus on sundry arms 
and pieces of cloth, that he 
was fully believed to hold, 
in his command, limitless 
powers of magic; the "spir- 
its of the air" were de- 
clared to be in league with 
him, for good or evil. 

The fame of the learned 
thabib spread over the sok 
rapidly, and Achmed had 
difficulty in keeping back 
the eager, curious crowd. 

Whatever the explana- 
tion may be, it is a fact that 
Moors and Berbers and 
Arabs are able to bear phy- 
sical pain much better than 
Europeans ; all travelers in 
Morocco have attested this, 
and Ted also found it to be 
so ; yet, stolid and self-con- 
trolled as .they are, they know the difference 
between pain and the cessation of pain, you may 
be sure. The treatment of wounds in Morocco is 
so primitive and unsanitary that Ted felt entire 
confidence in his simple, cleanly treatment; al- 
though he would not have dared undertake what 
are called "capital" operations, he greatly im- 
proved the condition of many fingers and hands 
and legs by careful bathing and clean bandages. 
There was no denying that he was already the 




"talk of the town," and nobody had penetrated 
his disguise. He was described by Achmed as a 
veritable "King of Pain"; and all sorts of maimed 
and halt and blind were brought to him, with in- 
creasing confidence on the part of the populace. 

That night our friends camped just outside the 
limits of the sok, and the gifts (mouna) which 
were presented to them would have filled a small 
dray. Chickens, fruits, cereals, butter, eggs, wear- 
ing apparel, and other gifts were piled on the 
ground before their tent. In order that they 
might sleep in undisturbed quiet, Achmed went 
through some sort of imposing formulas and ges- 
turings at nightfall, drawing an imaginary line 
around the camp, and threatening all kinds of 
mysterious evils on any one who should cross 
over that line. 

"So far, so good," observed Ted, after he and 
the Bedouin lad had withdrawn into the quiet of 
their tent. "I hope my fame will spread rapidly." 
And he laughed with much enjoyment of his suc- 
cess. "Anyhow, Achmed," he added, throwing 
his arm around his friend's shoulder, "it was my 
advertising agent who deserved the most credit ; 
you grew fairly eloquent in your description of 
my magical powers." Then he added, more seri- 
ously : "Upon my word, though, I am downright 
glad to have been able to relieve and help some 
of those poor, ignorant, suffering creatures, those 
children especially." 

They all slept comfortably through the night, 
and they breakfasted early on the "fat of the 
land." Ted began his medical and sanitary duties 

(To be 

soon after breakfast, fully a hundred people hav- 
ing gathered and waited in patience for the com- 
ing forth of the "Young Wizard" from his 
mysterious seclusion. 

About ten o'clock the thing happened which our 
young friends had hoped for: the fame of the 
learned thabib had penetrated the kasbah (castle) 
and had come to the ears of that sacred personage 
the sherif. 

Ted caught sight of a richly caparisoned white 
horse at the rear of the gaping crowd ; and on the 
horse sat a stern-looking man in costly garb, and 
riding his steed straight into the crowd, as if into 
a field of wheat. He drew rein when a few paces 
in front of the busy young worker of cures, and 
gave out his summons, in a voice of authority: 
"The mighty descendant of the still mightier 
Prophet — his name be praised — calls upon the 
worker of wonders to come to him ; I will lead 
the way." 

Achmed of course made response ; his tone and 
words expressed a proper respect for the author- 
ity of the sherif, the dictator of the policies of 
sultans, yet no servility did he show. And Ted, 
without evincing any unworthy haste, packed up 
his belongings and made ready to go. 

"We will go forward, not as suppliants, but 
with fearless hearts," said Achmed, in a low, firm 
tone, to his companion, as they stood alone to- 
gether. "We are running a great risk in putting 
ourselves within the power of this fickle Moor, 
sherif though he is; but it is our only course; we 
must venture it. Now, is all ready?" 

continued. ) 



Four persons stand between little Prince Luitpold 
and the Bavarian throne. If he lives to be a 
man, he must inevitably one day become king; 
yet before that can take place death must first 
have claimed his unfortunate great-uncle, poor 

mad King Otto; his great-grandfather (at eighty- 
nine years of age reigning regent of the king- 
dom) ; his grandfather Ludwig; and his young 
father, Prince Ruprecht. 

Meanwhile he is the happiest of princelings. 




With his father, his pretty girl mother, and his 
haby sister he dwells in a wonderful old Munich 
palace facing a broad square through which his 


great-grandfather's soldiers march every day. 
Just opposite is the royal Residenz Schloss, filled 
with priceless treasures (collected by his art- 
loving ancestors), all of which may one day be 
his. In near-by streets are other palaces belong- 
ing to his grandfather, his two great-uncles, their 
children and children's children ; for little Luit- 
pold lacks not for cousins, though unluckily none 
of them are young enough to be his playfellows. 
When the .young King of Spain (who is also a 
far-off cousin) visits Munich, as he does regu- 
larly every year, he doubtless finds it tiresome 
enough to return all his royal visits — as etiquette 
demands he should— before leaving the city. 

The Wittelsbach family, to which Luitpold be- 
longs, is notably the very oldest reigning house 
in Europe, the young prince being, in fact, de- 
scended in an unbroken line from the first Luit- 
pold, Count of Scheyern, who, as a contemporary 
of Alfred the Great of England, died just six 
centuries before the discovery of America. Yet, 
in spite of their ancient lineage, no princely fam- 
ily is less haughty than the present-day Wittels- 

bachers. The venerable and beloved prince re- 
gent (who in all but name has been king for twenty- 
three years) may be seen almost any day driving 
or walking in simplest fashion about the city of 
Munich, replying pleasantly to the salutations of 
any one — even children — who may bare their 
heads in his honor. Indeed, so accustomed are 
his subjects to seeing the good-natured old gen- 
tleman, in his familiar brown overcoat and soft 
hat, that the sight of his carriage — unaccompanied 
by soldiers or guards and with nothing to dis- 
tinguish it from hundreds of others save the 
blue livery of coachman and footman — causes no 
stir or commotion of any sort. While other 
monarchs of Europe find it necessary — for fear 
of bombs or bullets — to dash in swift automobiles 
through the streets of their capitals, the aged 
ruler of Bavaria feels his person secure, appar- 
ently, in the midst of his loyal Munchner. On 
festival occasions only he appears in brilliant uni- 


form as field-marshal of the Bavarian army. 
Then and then only the people know it pleases 
him to hear them cheer. 

Prince Ludwig, the heir apparent, who (because 
of his white beard and spectacles) looks fully as 
elderly as his sturdy old father, possesses, to- 
gether with his son Ruprecht, far less simplicity 



of manner. With this in mind, one almost won- 
ders to find the youngest heir apparent reared 
from babyhood to show friendliness to all per- 
sons with whom he may come in contact. In all 
probability this training of the little Luitpold is 
due to the regent's influence, seconded by the 


wishes of his mother (the so-called "prettiest 
princess in Europe"), who comes of a notably 
democratic family. Her father was the late 
Grand Duke Karl Theodor, whom the accident of 
royal birth did not prevent from becoming a prac- 
tising oculist and a very clever one at that. 

Evidently a liking for the healing arts runs 
strongly in this branch of the Wittelsbach fam- 
ily. A younger brother of Duke Karl Theodor's 
is a surgeon and spends half his days at the great 
Munich hospital. He is, however, somewhat less 
proficient in his profession than was the royal 
oculist, and it is said to require some exercise of 
tact on the part of the hospital authorities to 
prevent him from undertaking operations too 
complicated for his powers. 

But little Luitpold will be instructed in no pro- 
fession but that of kingcraft. As a first step in 
this difficult art he has already been taught two 
things: first, to speak many languages, and, sec- 
ond, to make himself popular with the good 
Bavarians who will one day be his subjects. 

Luitpold has a small Shetland pony with a 
basket-cart in which he drives himself and his 
English governess about the broad, clean streets 
of Munich. Every time he passes one of the 
many palaces already spoken of, two sentinels, 
standing before the entrance, are seen to present 
arms as solemnly as if a major-general were pass- 
ing by instead of a tiny boy in a sailor suit. 

Many pretty tales are told of Luitpold's inter- 
est in other children. One day in driving along 
Ludwig Strasse he perceived two little American 
boys emerging from the Maximilian Gymnasium, 
a famous school for boys. German lads are 
taught to be dignified, even to solemnity, on the 
streets. For this reason, doubtless, the jolly 
American faces turned in animated scrutiny of 
his own pony attracted the royal child. On the 
following day he met the same children again. 
These— having been enlightened meanwhile as to 
the identity of the driver of the pony-cart— raised 
their caps politely. The young prince seemed de- 
lighted at this attention, and instead of returning 
the military salute (a stiff little raising of the 
hand to the cap) which is customary, smiled, 
nodded, and waved his hand as merrily as if he 
and the little Americans had been old-time com- 

Of the several languages which the seven-year- 
old prince speaks fluently it is English in which 
he is most proficient. One day in the Englischer 
Garten, as the Munich park is called (because 
originally laid out by an Englishman), an elderly 
American lady seated on a bench amused herself 
by watching a dear little dark-eyed boy playing 
ring-toss with his governess. 

"Your turn next, Miss F ," he called. 

"An English child!" thought the lonely old 
lady— her heart full of a far-away grandson — 
"I must speak to him if he comes in this di- 

Ten minutes later a runaway hoop brought its 
small owner panting to her side. 

"And who may you be, my lad?" she asked 

With the friendliest little nod imaginable the 
child replied : 

"Oh, I 'm Prince Luitpold Karl Joseph Wil- 
helm Ludwig of Bavaria. Entschuldigen Sic. 
Gnadigste [Pardon me, most gracious one] j I 
must go now." 

And away he ran. 








Though people generally go by railroads to visit these 
countries, there are other ways to travel. Here are 

some of them. 


>mwi« wgw m gftjM} I 

gcasgi^ Basis i 'i -i ascsig 

»B|f^'^^"H M 



' ID 1 U^J ' l^UI^J 





Do you know the names of all these different kinds of 





As Canada is in the North it is colder in winter than 
the United States, so there you will see these. 

In a logging-camp 

While Mexico is in the South, so there you will find 

strange looking people like these. 

An Indian porter 

A Grandee 




We must have some more amusing pictures, as well as 
serious ones. I am sure these will make you laugh. 






Mis6 Hippo: It's a delightful row Mr. Bunny, 
but could n't you go a little faster? 

Now then duck in your head 
and over we go. 

Would n't it be strange if you saw some of 
these sights at the circus, this year ! 




Those on the other page are all real animals, these are 
unreal animals, but they have real names. 

A china cat. 

A clothes-horse. 

A goose girl. 

A golf lynx. 

A turkey-gobbler 

A horse-fly. 

A pie-plant. 

A dogfish. 



We are now in the very loveliest part of the year, 
the springtime, and if we are fortunate enough 
to live in the country, we are surrounded by a 
thousand miracles of growth and of return, each 
one of which is far too wonderful to be believed 
— except that it happens to be true ! 

For surely not the most marvelous of stories 
ever told anything so marvelous as this — this 
pushing up through the hard earth, so cold and 
dark during the past months, of green grass blade 
and purple violet and golden crocus. This trans- 
formation of the trees, that seem to have burst 
into green fire overnight and to shake the smoke 
of perfume from their branches all through the 
soft air. And this strange home-coming of the 
birds. What called them back ? How did they 
know that April had opened the door of life again 
and that it was safe to return to the old places 
and begin to build new nests ? We have discov- 
ered a great many things— the age of rocks, the 
currents of the ocean, the movement of stars — 
but we have still many things to learn and to 
wonder over. Just why a little heat and moisture 
turn a shriveled brown seed into a glorious flower, 
or how it is that a crawling caterpillar becomes a 
floating butterfly, we do not know. Nor yet what 
instinct, sure as the rising of the sun, brings the 
winged flocks home to the North and fills the 
budding thickets with their songs. As I told you 
before, in olden times people believed the fairies 
had something to do with all this, or the gods and 
goddesses. Nowadays we say it is nature and 
instinct ; but in both cases it is a matter of giving 
names to something beyond our explanation ; for 
since the beginning we have all been apt to think 
that to name anything is to understand it. But 
Shakspere, who looked farther into most things 
than the rest of us, said that "a rose by any other 
name would smell as sweet"— yes, and be quite as 

This wonderful story of the earth's return to 

life has been told over and over again, and will 
continue to be told for as long as we need to 
imagine. Little by little we understand more and 
more of it, although it seems likely that we shall 
never get to the end, never find the final explana- 
tion which means that the last page has been 
reached. It is the Story Without an End, and 
we study it forever with fresh interest and fresh 
love, for it holds, beside all its beauty and its 
strangeness, a promise, an immortal promise. 

There is then this beauty of the world that we 
are not able to explain. And no more than we 
can tell why the frogs begin to pipe their reedy 
music in the soft spring evenings, heralding the 
return of life to the woods and fields, with all the 
wonders to follow, no more can we explain our- 
selves. As the spring advances with newer and 
lovelier flowers and birds, songs and fruits, so, 
too, our life advances, bringing mysteries as beau- 
tiful and as great, and just as unexplained. 

But it is our way to keep on seeking for the 
reason : the reason of the world and the reason of 
life, the reason of spring and the reason of win- 
ter. All these seekings we put into thought and 
into those results of thought called art and sci- 
ence and literature. And when the books and 
the statues and the pictures are truly the result 
of the thought or the feeling we have had about 
life in its many manifestations, then they, too, 
become part of life itself, telling us how some one 
else saw this world, that is the same to us all, and 
yet different to each one of us. So a true and 
beautiful story, whether it be simple or not makes 
no difference, holds something of the same mys- 
tery as the budding flower or the nesting bird. 
We cannot explain it nor the power that made it, 
for the fact that we are able to think and speak 
of the marvels we meet is as wonderful as they 
are themselves. 

I got to thinking about this Story Without an 
End that is always being told us, because I picked 
up a little book I have always loved, called by 




that very title and written quite a while ago. It 
is, in spite of its name, a short book, a few pages 
printed in rather large type, with pictures on 
nearly every page. I can hardly tell why the 
story is so very lovable. It is about a child in a 
garden, a gentle and exquisite child, to whom the 
little creatures and the plants tell various things. 
Perhaps you have tried sometime to tell just 
how you like a branch of apple-blossoms ; it is 
not easy, and it is not easy to say just why this 
book is so charming. But I hate to think that 
any child should miss it. My edition is an old 
one, for it belonged to my father when he was a 
child himself, and his father and mother used to 
read it to him and to his sisters. It is torn and 
faded, and some of the pages are lost ; but I like 
to read it now as much as I did when I was a 
child no bigger than the Child in the book. You 
can get it in what are called the Ariel Booklets, 
pretty little volumes of the classics or of such 
simple tales as this, which the world is not willing 
to let go, any more than spring will let go the 
tiny white wind-flower or the smallest linnet with 
its twitter of song. If you want a perfect story 
to take out with you when you go to sit in the 
sun by the brookside and listen to the catbirds 
hopping about in the alder thicket, ask for "The 
Story Without an End." The gentle Child, with 
his butterflies artd his flowers, belongs to spring, 
and you will hardly know which you love best. 

Another book full of tenderness and charm, only 
this is a sad book, is the story of "Undine." Un- 
dine was a water-nymph who wanted a human 
soul — for you must know that nymphs have no 
souls, though they are immortal. The story tells 
what she had to do to get this soul, how she suf- 
fered, and how lovely and brave she was. Each 
step she took in the world, away from her home 
in the water, was as painful as though she walked 
on sharp swords. And to find her soul it was 
necessary that a man should love her and take her 
for his wife. But that is only a part of the story. 
Poor little Undine ! no one can read about her 
without tears. She is so gentle and so sweet and 
so unhappy that not only one man but all the 
world has come to love her. Now, however, it is 
too late. For the man she loved did not under- 
stand the mystery of a human soul, though he 
himself had always possessed one. So in the end 
Undine goes back to her own element and sinks 
out of sight beneath the green water. Yet even 
to this day you may at times, when the April rain 
beats on the window-panes, hear her low sighs 
and tears, and there are people who say they have 
caught a glimpse of white arms and floating hair 

and a sad but lovely face appearing for an instant 
on the surface of a lake or a still stream, only to 
vanish at once with a sign of sorrow and a sound 
like a good-by. Other people say that Undine is 
no more than a fancy. But a fancy is quite as 
important as a flower. And what kind of a world 
would it be if no flowers and no fancies were al- 
lowed in it ? 

Then there is the story of "Peter Schlemihl," 
the man who had no shadow. Apparently he was 
just like the rest of us otherwise, but he had had 
the misfortune to affront his shadow, and it had 
left him. It may not seem that a shadow is a 
particularly useful possession, nor that it could do 
you any good. Perhaps not. Still, not to have 
something that everybody else has, whether one 
actually uses it or not, proved to be most bother- 
some to Peter, and his adventures without his 
shadow make a very amusing tale. The other 
people in the book never can get used to having a 
shadowless man about, and it was really only in 
the dark that poor Peter could be happy. 

These three books are all in the Ariel edition, 
and I cannot think of anything much more de- 
lightful than to have them all to read for the first 
time during the lovely days of May. There 
are plenty cf books full of solid sense and infor- 
mation that will, after all, tell you no more than 
these graceful and fanciful volumes, with their 
stories of simple things. So, too, the world is full 
of a number of things that weigh more and look 
more valuable than the white flowers of the dog- 
wood or the scarlet flash of the tanager as he flits 
through the sunshine. But who can say? It is 
still, you must remember, a Story Without an 
End. Whether a fairy opens the petals of the 
flowers with a touch of her silver wand, or Na- 
ture, whoever she may be, does it with a ray of 
sunlight, the fact remains that there is the flower. 
And whether or not Undine ever stole out of the 
green and .silver lake to find a soul, or whether 
Peter really lost that shadow of his, or had just 
as many as the rest of us, here at least are the 
stories. And no more adorable ones of their kind 
are to be had for love or money or both. 

For this is true. The world we live in is filled 
with mysteries, and even the most commonplace 
of days holds things much too wonderful to be 
explained by years of study. And it is this reali- 
zation of the wonderful that stories like the ones 
I have been speaking about bring to us, just as 
spring itself brings it. When you stop to think, 
the fact that you woke up this morning the same 
little girl or boy who went to sleep last night is 
quite as remarkable as any story ever imagined. 
Possibly Shakspere thought of that when he 
wrote, "We are such stuff as dreams are made of." 




£D/r£D B}' EDWARD F &/G£LQbf 

The Ancient Mariner (in the poem of that name by Coleridge) admitted that with his crossbow he shot an albatross. His mates then claimed 
that good luck had abandoned the ship, for he had killed the bird " that made the breeze to blow." The ship was becalmed for many days, and 
there was intense suffering for lack of water to drink. Then the shipmates hung the dead albatross around his neck as a token of his disgrace. 


The albatross, that wanderer of the seas, so 
often referred to in prose and poem, is neverthe- 
less a stranger to the average person, and by 
some is even considered a myth. In Coleridge's 
"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" the albatross 
plays a leading part, and one sorrows for the 
poor bird which, after following the ship for 
weeks, is pitilessly shot down by a mariner. 

The albatross is the largest sea-bird having the 
power of flight, and is closely allied to the. gull, 
petrel, and Mother Carey's chicken. It has a tre- 

body is about four feet in length, and the weight 
is from fifteen to eighteen pounds, a compara- 
tively light weight when one considers the ex- 
treme length of wing. The albatross is possessed 
of a peculiarly long, oddly shaped bill, which 
gives it a strange appearance ; this is shown in 
the illustration. The nostrils open from round, 
horizontal tubes on each side of the bill, but at 
its base. 

This great bird is generally met with in South- 
ern seas, although it is occasionally seen on our 
Pacific coast. On the Atlantic side it is rarely 
found as far north as Tampa Bay. 

Its food consists of cuttlefish, jellyfish, and 
scraps thrown from passing ships. It is a greedy 
bird, and at times gorges itself to such an extent 
that it is unable to rise from the water. 

Its power of flight is, however, the most re- 
markable thing about the albatross. It spends its 
life, with the exception of the few weeks given 
each year to nesting, entirely at sea, and is on the 
wing practically all the time. Furthermore, it does 
not progress by flapping its wings as most birds 
do, but seems to soar at will, rarely, if ever, giv- 
ing a stroke of the wing, seeming to need no 
impetus. Buller gives an excellent description 
of this power : 

"On tireless wings hour after hour, day after 
day, they wheel round and round and forever 
round the ship — now far behind, now sweeping 
past in a long, rapid survey like a perfect skater 
on an uneven field of ice. There is no effort ; 
watch as closely as you will, you rarely or never 
see a stroke of the mighty pinion. The flight is 
generally near the water, often close to it. You 
lose sight of the bird as he disappears in the hol- 
low between the waves, and catch him again as 
he rises over the crest; but how he rises and 
mendous stretch of wing, averaging from ten to whence the propelling force is inexplicable; he 
twelve feet. The wings are, however, extremely merely alters the angle at which the wings are 
narrow, being about nine inches in breadth. The inclined. Usually they are parallel to the water 

74 8 

Notice the nostril tube extending about a third of the way down. 



and horizontal ; but when he turns to ascend or 
makes a change in his direction, the wings then 


point at an angle, one to the sky, the other to the 

At nesting-time, which is early in the year, the 
albatross repairs to some isolated island such as 
the Crozet Islands in the southern Indian Ocean, 
or Tristan da Cunha, in the South Atlantic 
Ocean. Here they congregate in thousands, 
building their nests and hatching and rearing 
their young. The nests are built on the ground 
in an open situation. They are mound-like in 
appearance and have a slight depression on the 
top. They are made of mud and grass and are 
about eighteen inches in height. The albatross 
lays but one egg, which is quite large, being from 
four to five inches in length. The shell is rough, 
creamy white in color, and speckled with numer- 
ous brownish spots. When disturbed on the nest 
they clatter their bills, making a very loud noise, 
which, when taken up, by thousands of birds, be- 
comes deafening. 

There are eighteen known species of albatross, 
the best known being the wandering albatross. 
The adult bird of this species is white, and on 
the back bands of undulating dark stripes run 
from neck to tail. The wing-quills are black. 

varieties are the black-footed and the Laysan 

Sailors are very superstitious concerning this 
bird and are especially averse to killing one of 
them. Unfortunately, this aversion is not gen- 
eral, and passengers on vessels, taking advantage 
of the bird's fearlessness, often fish for it with 
line and baited hook. By this means many are 
captured. To me it seems a needless and atro- 
cious cruelty. 

Knowing the albatross, one cannot repress a 
feeling of awe and of reverence for the Power 
that has so admirably equipped him, master of 


The albatross did follow, 

And every day, for food or play, 

Came to the mariners' hollo ! 


the air, rider of the wind. Serene and secure in 
his matchless power, he cheers the lone wanderer 

Very similar to this bird is the royal albatross and gives a touch of life to the watery wastes. 

of New Zealand. The best known of the other S. Edwin Megargee, Jr. 





One evening last summer I got out the hose to 
give the thirsty garden a drink and, as it turned 
out, the birds as well. It was after a very warm 
day, one of the many we had during the long 


drought. The ground was like powder, and vege- 
tation, drooping and shriveled from the heat and 
lack of rain, was plainly in distress. 

After wetting down the tomato-plants, the hose 
was turned on another part of the garden. Up to 
this time 1 had not noticed a bird about, in fact 
had not given them a thought ; but now, on turn- 
ing my attention again to the tomatoes, I saw sev- 
eral sparrows hopping around among the dripping 
plants. At first I could not understand why these 
birds had gathered around where I was at work, 
but upon looking more closely the mystery was 
soon solved. They were after a drink and knew 
how to take advantage of the opportunity to get 
it. Of course the water that fell on the ground 
soaked in almost immediately and disappeared, 
but that on the leaves would collect in big drops 
on all the points, where it would hang, and here 
was where the birds were getting their drink. It 
was amusing to see the thirsty little creatures 
hopping and flitting about among the wet plants, 
pecking at the great drops, looking for all the 
world as if they were feeding on some sort of 
crystal berries. Thinking to help them, I turned 

the hose their way again ; but this seemed to be 
too much of a good thing, and they quickly flitted 
out of reach, only to be back as soon as the hose 
was turned away. How these birds knew what 
was going on I cannot say, but probably they were 
in the near-by trees, and when they saw water 
coining concluded it was for them as well as the 
plants. The little fellows certainly knew how to 
get it, even though it was a somewhat unusual 
way of drinking. Qeorge a Kinq _ 


While watching a phcebe at work on her nest, I 
discovered that part of the structure was the 
work of barn-swallows. A closer examination 
showed that the phcebe was only adding a rim to 
an old barn-swallows' nest to replace a part 
which had crumbled away. The nest, as you will 
see by the illustration, was in the usual site chosen 
by barn-swallows, but one where a phcebe's 
mossy house could hardly have been made to 
stay but for the support now afforded. 

This little phcebe stopped in her work when 
the building was of the ordinary height, showing 
that she took full advantage of the swallows' 
work. I have never seen an example of more in- 
telligent nest-building by any bird. In a later 
visit to the nest I was pleased to see the bird sit- 


ting quietly in her curious house; still later the 
nest seemed fairly "running over" with baby 
phcebes. Edmund J. Sawyer. 





The natives of the Hawaiian Islands are exceed- 
ingly foncj, of flowers, which they weave into 
leis, or garlands, to wear around their necks or as 
hatbands. At a picnic in the Hawaiian Islands 
both natives and foreigners appear gaily deco- 
rated with bright-hued leis, and when friends or 
relatives are leaving a Hawaiian port, they are 
accompanied to the wharf and almost buried 
under leis or variedly colored flowers. 

In the streets of Honolulu may be seen rows 
of lei-sellers sitting on the ground, with large 
bunches of cut flowers at their feet and leis hung 
upon the wooden fence behind and above their 
heads. Both men and women are found among 
the dealers, who adorn themselves profusely with 
their own wares. The appearance of a group of 
ten or a dozen lei-merchants, surrounded by their 
beautiful merchandise, is striking and character- 
istic. . T 

Arthur Inkersley. 


These blossoms, about three inches across, and 
several other similar ones were found in 1908 on 

Photographed by Verne Morton, Groton, N. Y. 

an early apple-tree of the variety locally known 
as "sour bough." Perhaps you may find some. 






Comets (the name "comet" is derived from a 
Greek word meaning hair) are heavenly bodies 
wholly different from all others known, and, in 
some points, are enveloped in mysteries that sci- 
ence has yet to penetrate. 

It has been affirmed that the heavenly space is 
as full of comets as the sea is of fishes. Only 
the brightest of these, however, are visible with- 
out the use of a good telescope. These easily 
visible ones differ little from one another in gen- 
eral appearance and consist of three parts — the 
nucleus, the coma, and the tail. The nucleus is 
the bright, starlike tip; the coma appears as a 
bit of luminous vapor surrounding the nucleus ; 
while the tail trails away from the coma, always 


The various positions show where each will be at certain dates. The 
illustration also shows how the comet changes from a morning to an 
evening object. 

in a direction away from the sun, and gradually 
fades away into the sky, like long hair blown out 
in the wind. 

The nucleus, the densest and most luminous 

part, is believed to be gaseous, and more distant 
stars may be easily seen through it with good 
telescopes. The great comet of 1680 was com- 
puted by Sir Isaac Newton to be exposed, when 
nearest the sun, to a heat 2000 times the temper- 
ature of red-hot iron — a temperature sufficient to 
turn to gas any substance known to man. 

Comets are believed to be tiny bits of the raw 
material from which the planets were made, and 
to have wandered through space since the begin- 
ning of the solar system. One by one they are 
attracted toward the sun. Revolving around the 
sun in a curved path, their momentum carries 
them again into space, whence they may not re- 
turn to encircle the sun for years. Sometimes 
the influence of some of the planets may so 
attract the comet that, instead of its path being 
a "closed" curve or "ellipse" (which, you know, 
is a kind of elongated circle), allowing it to make 
its regular trips around the sun over and over 
again, it is made to leave its closed path, or orbit, 
and is forced into a different path after going 
around the sun, and driven off into space, abso- 
lutely never to return. The opposite thing some- 
times happens, that is to say, a comet that is 
traveling a path that would naturally send it off 
into space forever, after going around the sun, 
may be so influenced by the attraction of planets 
that its orbit, or path, becomes a closed path, or 
ellipse, and so causes the comet to appear at reg- 
ular intervals of many years, for its excursion 
to the sun, around it, and back. 

One of the most remarkable periodic comets 
we are acquainted with, and the only one visible 
to the unaided eye, is Halley's comet. This will 
be visible in the eastern morning sky during the 
latter part of April and early May, passing the 
sun on May 19. It may then be seen in the west- 
ern sky immediately after sunset, probably a gor- 
geous object easily seen without a telescope. It 
will disappear about May 25. 

It was Edmund Halley, an English astronomer, 
who first noted the periodic appearance of com- 
ets. He inferred from his computations that the 
comets of 1531, 1607, and 1682 were really the 
same comet periodically returning, and he pre- 
dicted its reappearance in 1758. His prediction 
was verified by its reappearance on Christmas 
Day of that year. This comet has since been 
known by his name, and regularly appears about 
on time, but as it requires about seventy-six years 
to complete its orbit, very few of us will see it 

Most likely this comet was a much grander 
sight in 1531 than it will appear to us, for it 
seems that when comets are made members of 
our solar system they become mortal, and, in 





The bright spot in the tip is the nucleus. The bright part around it is the coma, which gradually merges into the tail, which, itself, fades away 

imperceptibly into the sky. 

astronomical measurements, their lives are short. 

As they repeat their journeys around the sun, 

their tails gradually grow fainter, the nucleus 

slowly fades into the coma, and in the course of 

a few centuries or a few thousand years, perhaps, 

there is nothing left but the coma, which itself 

then gradually grows dimmer and more dim to 

the most powerful telescopes, and at last is no 

more — another ghost, perchance, keeping endless 

vigil 'mongst the stars. _ 

Clement B. Davis. 


A gun which is expected to be the most power- 
ful naval weapon in existence, has recently been 
completed at the Washington gun-factory. It is 
of fourteen-inch caliber, measures fifty-three and 
one half feet in length, weighs sixty-three and 

shell weighing fourteen hundred pounds by means 
of a normal charge of three hundred and sixty- 
five pounds of smokeless powder. 

The gun was constructed at the Midvale Steel 
Company's works and when completed will be 
tested at the Indian Head proving-grounds. The 
fighting range of the gun will be five miles, and 
it is expected that at a distance of nine thou- 
sand yards a projectile will have a force behind 
it sufficient to drive it through eleven inches of 
Krupp steel, the maximum thickness of the 
Dreadnought belt. At three thousand yards it 
is said that the gun's projectiles will penetrate 
eighteen and seven tenths inches of the best 
armor steel. 

The barrel-like arrangements on the under side 
of the rear part of the gun are the recoil cylin- 
ders. These cylinders contain heavy springs and 


three tenths tons, and its maximum range is esti- a liquid for absorbing the terrific shock of recoil 
mated at twenty-five miles. It will discharge a whenever the gun is fired. 
Vol. XXXVII. -95. 







Franklin, Tenn. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have heard that it is the force of 
the sunlight that holds the tail of a comet away from the 
sun. If that is true, why was there a curve in the tail of 
Comet A? Of what are the tails of comets made? 
Your interested reader, 

Mary Katherine Pope. 

The curvature of the tail as seen in Comet 
1910 A is a result of a combination of the veloci- 
ties of the particles going out from the head of 
the comet to form the tail, and of the motion of 
the comet in its orbit.— S. A. Mitchell. 

Further information on comets will be found 
in the two interesting articles in this number of 
St. Nicholas: one on page 678, by Mr. A. Rus- 
sell Bond and one on page 752, by Mr. Clement 
B. Davis. 


Naples, Italy. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I am sending you in two boxes 
some samples of some minerals I got in a mine in Tuscany. 
I should like you to tell me what these minerals are, in 
your "Nature and Science." 

Your very interested reader, 

Charles I. Morton. 

The two long pieces across the top in the illus- 
tration are gypsum, as are also the perpendicu- 


lar, transparent crystals in the center. Below the 
long crystals and also at the lower left corner is 
quartz. The darker pieces in the middle at the 
left are galena or lead. The large, dark piece 

at the lower right is stibnite. The white portion 
of the lower part of the center piece at the bot- 
tom is calcite. 


Minneapolis, Minn. 
Dear St. Nicholas: My father went to the back yard to 
look at some frogs he has there for bait in fishing. He 
noticed that one of the frogs had something hanging from 


its mouth. On closer observation he found that it was the 
legs of a small frog. Are all frogs cannibals among 
themselves? The frog which Father noticed was a large 

Father is keeping some frogs down cellar in a large tub 
with some grass and weeds in it. The frogs do not seem 
to need anything to eat, and none of them have died thus 

Yours respectfully, 

Irene Woodruff. 

If frogs are kept cold during the winter, they 
need very little or no food. If kept indoors they 
may be fed as in the warm months. It is best to 
keep them in a living-room temperature and feed 
them in the usual way. Bullfrogs are cannibals 
and should never be kept with frogs of the smaller 
species, as they will finally eat all of the latter. 
Raymond L. Ditmars. 


Hanover, N. H. 
Dear St. Nicholas : The other day some boy friends 
took me to a meadow, where, in a thick tuft of grass, 
there was a bobolink's nest. The nest was made of dried 
grass and fixed firmly in the roots of the grasses. As 
we came away, after pulling the grass over the nest again, 
my cousin took me to a boggy place. In the midst of a 
thick tuft of " weeds" and grass there were the remains 
of a field-mouse's nest. The day before my cousin had 
found it with four or five little pink mice with their eyes 
still shut. The family had evidently moved during the 
night. I found a little narrow path leading away from the 
nest and all covered over with grass. We could not find 
the end to it. This is the second time a mouse has moved 
her residence as soon as it was discovered. Is it cus- 
tomary for mice to do that ? 

Your loving reader, 

Dorothy Stimson (age 10). 

Mice sometimes change their location if their 
nest is disturbed. 




holding a swarm..of bees 

Grand Rapids, Mich. 
Dear St. Nicholas: We had more than twenty swarms 
of bees. Papa kept them in an orchard, and he kept pigs 
there, too. Sometimes, when the pigs were eating, the 
bees would go around them and sting one on the nose. 
The pig would run and shake his head. Although it may 
have hurt him, we could not keep from laughing. 

I am not much afraid of the bees. But when I was hav- 
ing my picture taken, the man who took it would keep 
moving back as though he was afraid of them, so he could 
hardly take the picture. When I was to have my picture 
taken, Papa told me that, if the bees got on my arms, not 
to hit them, and they would not sting me. 

Once I had a pet gosling. I let it go in the orchard. It 
stayed there awhile. Then the gosling ate the bees, and 
when it was eating them the bees stung the gosling's 
throat so that the gosling could n't swallow. After a 
while the gosling died, and that was the end of it. 

I like honey very much. 

Your friend, 

Verna Holman (age 9). 


Honey-bees are less liable to sting when swarming than at almost 

any other time. 

swarm of bees— perhaps fifty thousand bees. Who 
has ever held so many "pets" at one time? 


Calamba Laguna, Philippine Islands. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I send you a beetle caught by a na- 
tive boy here in the Philippines. The native name is 
Gang. When I touch it on the back it makes a noise like 

This is a remarkable example of bravery, and 
also of strength— a little girl holding a heavy events."— From a technical botanist. 


"sis sis." The natives tell me that it bores holes in the 
cocoanut-tree, and that the tree soon dies. Can you please 
tell me the technical name of this beetle ? 
Your interested reader, 

Nelson F. Newman (age 12). 

The beetle is a variety of Xylotnipes gidcon 
Linn. It lives, in the larval or grub condition, in 
the trunks of trees that have been damaged in 
some way, or in old logs. 


Ridott, III. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have noticed that the snow around 
the pine- and fir-trees has melted long before that near any 
other trees or anywhere else on the ground has melted. 
Please tell me if the roots of these trees are any warmer 
than the roots of other trees, and, if they are warmer, if 
this warmth is due to the fact that they are green during 
the winter. 

Your reader, 

Elois Taggart. 

"The difficulty is more apparent than real. I 
doubt whether the snow melts faster under pines 
and spruces than elsewhere. In the first place, 
these trees protect the ground from snow far bet- 
ter than other kinds, and there is nearly always, 
for this reason, a bare space around them near 
the trunk. I fancy also that the sun which pene- 
trates the woods warms up an inclosed space such 
as occurs under these trees much more thor- 
oughly than the more open space under trees of a 
different habit. I think these two facts will suf- 
ficiently explain the phenomenon without the need 
for supposing the roots to be any warmer than 
those of other kinds. I feel sure that no such 
phenomenon is known to physiologists, at all 

The subject " Comrades " for the Photography Compe- 
tition this month proved an unusually popular one; and 
seldom have we received so many excellent contributions 
for any one number, or contributions that fitted so well the 
subject announced. Therefore, we are tempted to print 
rather an unusual number of the photographs. This fact, 
together with the long list of names in the photography 
First Roll of Honor, has made it necessary, this month, to 
omit the Second Roll of Honor in the Drawing, Prose, 

Verse, and Photography contests. This may disappoint 
some of the members, but we feel sure that the contributors 
in those other departments, especially those contributors 
whose names might ordinarily have been on the Second 
Roll of Honor, will willingly give space to these additional 
attractive photographs, and will congratulate the pho- 
tographers on making, this month, rather the " Star " 
feature of the League, just as they, themselves, have, from 
time to time, happened to hold that distinction. 


In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered. 

PROSE. Silver badges, Mary Whelan (age 15), New York City ; George M. Maynard (age 16), Washington, D. C. ; 
Eloise C. McDowell (age 15), Memphis, Tenn. 

VERSE. Silver badges, Rosamond Parkinson (age 17), N. Rochdale, Norden, Eng. ; Geraldine Boush (age 17), 
Brookline, Mass. 

DRAWING. Silver badges, Lois McCain (age 17), Rapid City, South Dakota; Margaret R.Bennett (age 13), 
Los Angeles, Cal. 

PHOTOGRAPHY. Gold badge, Charles E. Ames (age 14), Readville, Mass. 

Silver badges, Malcolm C. Sherman (age 12), Jamaica Plain, Mass. ; Amy H. Requa (age 13), Berkeley, Cal. 

WILD CREATURE PHOTOGRAPHY. Class "C" prize, Gertrude Close (age 13), Greenwich, Conn. 

PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badges, Anna H. Kahan (age 15), New York City; Emile Kostal (age 13), Elmsford, 
N. Y. 

PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badges, John R. Schmertz (age 14), Pittsburgh, Pa. ; Marion K. Valentine (age 
12), Englewood, N. J. 








{Silver Badge) 

Although I have written the 
above line, I hardly know how 
to proceed, for when one loves 
and reads a great many books, it 
seems disloyal to the remainder 
to claim one as your favorite. 

But the one that has been my 
friend for six years is " Little 
Women." I should be afraid to 
say the number of times I have 
read it since the first time. One 
glance at its cover would tell it 

If one says, " I like this book 
best," the question, "Why?" 
appears. Here are my " whys " : 

First, you have all kinds of 
stories in the one book : a story of 
girls, two or three love stories, 
a glimpse of society abroad, and 
the joys and sorrows of a real 
" homey " family. 

Among the faults and charac- 
teristics of Meg, Jo, Beth, and 
Amy, I find some that resemble 
mine. I have a great deal of 
Jo's impetuousness and quick 
temper, combined with Amy's " getting ready 

love of the beautiful. I 
can lay no claim to a share 
of Amy's talent, nor have I 
any characteristics of good 
little Beth. 

So when I feel real cross 
and tired of. the late books, 
I turn to my stand-by and 
read of Jo's and Laurie's 
pranks, and feel better al- 
most at once; or if I'm 
wishing for something dif- 
ferent to happen, I read 
about Amy at the ball in 
Paris, and almost feel as if 
I 'd been there. When I 
feel discontented with what 
I have or really what I 
have n't and want, I turn 
again to "Little Women," 
and seeing how four real 
girls (not goody-goody girls) 
did without so much so 
cheerfully, and their clever 
little make-shifts, I feel 
ashamed and more con- 
tented, for what I have is so 
much more than they ever 

Now if a book helps me 
and gives me as much pleas- 
ure as does that dear, worn-out copy of " Little Women," 
have I not a right to say that it is my favorite book ? 



(Honor Member) 

What tho' the day be gloomy, 
And cold and bleak and drear, 

And brook and rill be frozen, 
At the ending of the year ! 

What tho' the trees be leafless, 
And birds no longer sing ! 

Still we are looking forward, 
Looking forward to the spring. 

"comrades." by amy h. requa, 
age 13. (silver badge.) 

Read carefully the rules for the contests, on the 
last page of the League. 







( Silver Badge) 

Vague seas of pearl, of sapphire, and of amethyst, 
And the young morn in a mist, 
Climbing the sky like a pallid acolyte 
That on the altar of the heavens doth light 
Numberless candles in her upward flight ! 


O vague sky, vague sea, 

With waves that flee 

To a distant lea, 
Is it a hinterland, on seas unruly, 
Or some cold winter-land, Ultima Thule, 

That beckons me ? 

Swift ship with sails like wings of gull or albatross, 

What wild seas wouldst thou cross, 

Straining against the all too eager wind, that like a soul 

So oft doth haunt thy sails, to urge thee to some shoal, 
Or mayhap to a dim-remembered goal ? 

O vague sky, vague sea, 

With waves that flee 

To a distant lea, 
Is it a fair Southland, lovely with flowers, 
Or some strange, uncouth land, where the ice towers, 

That beckons me ? 




Although I am a lover of many books, the one which 
appeals to me most, as I grow old enough to understand 
it a little, is the book called Life. All read it, the most 
ignorant as well as the wisest, and to each it is different. 
It is called base, grand, or sad, by people, according to 
what each sees of it. 

The noble people who have lived have striven to make 
it purer, grander, and less sad. A few of these people the 
whole world has been able to know and revere. 

Most of them are known by only a small part of the 
world. Some of these have had but little pleasure in their 




struggling lives, but have always shared with others what 
they received. I think that there is nothing grander than 

So, in the womanhood which is coming to me, I shall try 
to imitate them and make this book a little grander, purer, 
and less sad. 












"comrades." by anna agassiz, age 13. 



There are many books I have read, and some of them are 
very dear to me. Some of them I know nearly by heart, 
and to some others I always turn back, seeking and find- 
ing the same pleasure as when I read them first. There is 
"The Pilgrim's Progress," that plays a big part in my 
life, and there are books about adventure and travel which 
I would never miss. But the book I like best, the book 

which is most dear 
to me, the book from 
which I dream, for 
which I long, and 
which has a splen- 
dor of its very own, 
that is the book I 
have never read : 
the book whose 
pages are still un- 
folded and whose 
covers I have not 
yet opened; the book 
that lies before me 
and that is filled not 
only with an excit- 
ing and interesting 
story, but also with 
all my anticipations, 
with all my eager 
joy and hope, with 
all my pleasure of 
the hour to come. 
This book, this still 
unknown book, this 
book that I have 
never read, but that I am going to read presently, this 
book I like best ; it is my favorite book, and this, I am 
sure, will it always stay. 



O LONG and noble column of the years ! 

I would not ask from thee what men prize most, 
The false pow'r that depends on others' fears, 

The leadership of some avenging host. 

May I not follow, hotly flushed by fame, 
The paths that easiest and honored seem. 

Nor love the shouting people's vain acclaim 
Which calleth me, delusive as a dream. 

But let me do a man's work, when I may, 
As ye, long stately Years, keep hast'ning on ; 

And when, at length, my task is laid away, 
Leave me not, Years, a-basking in the sun ; 

But let me live my last days by the sea, 

Surging, deep-moving, like eternity. 



(Silver Badge) 

Of the many books I have read, I like best the book en- 
titled " Ivanhoe," by Sir Walter Scott. After reading the 
book I possessed a clearer idea of the way the Saxons were 
oppressed by the Normans, who had conquered them at 
the battle of Hastings in 1066 a.d. 

Men, such as Front de Bceuf, with little or no honor, 

were given large estates and a great deal of power over the 
conquered Saxons. These barons easily ruled Prince John, 
who was acting as King of England, for at that time the 
rightful king, Richard Cceur de Lion, was held as pris- 
oner in France on account of an alliance between the 
French king and Prince John. A few of the Norman 
barons, with John's per- 
mission, even went so far 
as to hold up a party of 
Saxons, subjects of the 
king, on the king's high- 

Later the just triumphed 
and the false weredefeated, 
because, when King Rich- 
ard escaped from prison 
and returned to England, 
the false followers of Prince 
John fled, and left him to 
meet his wronged brother 
alone, and to humiliate 
himself by asking and re- 
ceiving his brother's par- 

We also learn something 
of the lives of the Saxon 
outlaws, who, on account 
of the cruel laws of the 
Normans, had to flee to 
the forest for protection 
and earn their living by 
stealing from the rich. 
They were witty, kind to others in distress, and, though 
they were thieves, we are told that they did have a sense of 

The Saxons were not the only ones oppressed in Eng- 
land at this time, for the Jews were tyrannized over by 
both Saxons and Normans. 

On the whole, " Ivanhoe " is a very interesting story. 
It holds the attention of the reader to the end, and it is not 
monotonous ; for instance, one chapter treats of the burn- 
ing castle, while the following one leads us to the trysting- 
tree amid the cool green walks of the forest. 

"comrades." by therese e. 
olzendam, age 13. 

Write the name and address on the contribution 
itself, not on separate letters. 






jU^\ 11 ^H^i&n ~^^H 

^M ^*?®Z,S 

^2®^%^ t. 



*' \ jS 

-jPvmEmm&sM IP**** 



: Sm^iPeSS^*' 









I am always looking forward, 

And I 'm dreaming, day by day, 
Of the time when the League pages 
" Honor Member" of me say. 

I am thinking of that hour 

When I '11 gaze upon my name, 
' Honor Member," and those letters 
Shall the first steps be toward fame. 

I am dreaming of that triumph, 

Of that hard-earned victory, 
When, with sounding plaudits round me, 
"Honor Member" I shall be. 

But I may not win that honor, 

That victory may not gain ; 
But I have those hours with me — 

Hours of pleasure, work, and pain. 

And there 's no harm looking forward, 

For, as famous men do say, 
If you have a strong will with you, 

You will surely win the day. 



Beat the raindrops on the pane, 

Fades the snow like morning shadow, 

Rush the torrents down amain 

Through the woodlands and the meadow. 

Ever dripping are the eaves, 

Ever blows the south wind softly, 

Whirling the decaying leaves, 

Sighing through the tree-tops lofty. 

Gloomily the fields appear, 

Gloomily the rain-clouds lower, 

Lie the hilltops brown and bare, 
Bare of foliage and flower. 

Flee away, O soft South Wind ! 

Winter's reign is not yet over ; 
You must wait long ere you find 

Honey-bees among the clover ! 

He will fill the land once more 

With his freezing and his blowing, 

He will wander as of yore . 

With his hailing and his snowing. 

Come again in glad springtime ; 

We will welcome the new-comer 
From the sunny Southern clime, 

From the everlasting summer. 



There are a great many books, wonderful works in their 
way, which have moved whole nations to think better 
thoughts, speak wiser words, and do nobler deeds. Among 
these, standing out, as an exceptionally bright star does in 
Vol. XXXVII. —96. 

the heavens, is the Bible. It is a history, containing 
some of the truest accounts of the world's life. It is a 
story-book, telling tales of heroism, love, and of many a 
simply lived life. Wonders, which seem to us like fairy 
stories, are there related. But better than these is the 
simple yet beautiful story of one who came into the world 
as a little child and grew as we do. This, I think, is the 
best part of the Book, and perhaps this is why I like it 
best of all. I love to read the story and then think of the 
time that has elapsed since then, and yet the great re- 
ligion lives. 

Through its teachings we have learned the great truths 
of life, which enable us to lead better lives. These have 


remained the same in substance through these thousands of 
years, and the life of every person who has heard them is 
in some way bettered by the knowledge. 

I like the quaint language of the Bible, the odd com- 
parisons used, and the beautiful descriptions. It is true 
that these latter are often drawn in so few words that, to 
fully appreciate, one must imagine the rest. 

The memories of a person's childhood are the ones most 
cherished, generally, and to the training received then one 
generally owes one's future happiness. The Bible, I often 
think, is like a memory of the world's early life, and so the 
memory should make the world better, as our individual 
remembrances do us. 

I think I like this Book best of all because, without it, 
or at least without the knowledge of its teachings, we should 
be such miserable beings, creatures born to see no future 
life, worse than the worst of heathens, for even they be- 
lieve in some sort of a Divinity. 






{Silver Badge) 

I LOOK behind, I see gray vales of sorrow, 
But Hope, a cheery winged little boy, 

Flies by my side and bids me see to-morrow; 
I look, and see before me fields of joy. 

So ever from the future man can borrow 
Pleasure, his darkest moments to alloy. 




(Silver Badge) 

Since I first read Kipling's "Jungle Books," some 
years ago, I have always remembered them as two books 
I thoroughly enjoyed reading. 

They are not the kind of books you simply read once and 
then toss aside and forget ; they are the kind of books that, 
having once read, you will read again and again and be- 
come better and better acquainted with. And while they 
may never mean much more to you than they did the first 
time you looked into them, they will always be delightful 
in themselves, and will perhaps leave an ineffaceable mark 
on your memory — certainly you can never completely 
forget them. Though they may not be so deep as " Kim," 
for instance, to me they are just as fascinating and en- 


They are like old friends : so good to come back to and 
go over old experiences with, which, in this case, seem al- 
most like your own experiences, so realistic does Kipling 
make them. Once read, who can ever forget the story of 
Movvgli, as told in the first "Jungle Book," of his adop- 

tion by the mother wolf, of his thrilling capture of the 
lame tiger, aided by the wild buffaloes, and of his being 
cast out of the "Wolf Pack?" And in the exciting story 
of -"Red Dog," the story of the fight of the "Wolf 
Pack " against the dholes, the victory of the wolves, and 
" Akela's " death, are even more dramatic. 

But then there are other things in the " Jungle Books," 
too. "The White Seal" and " Quiquern," tales of the 
far North, are extremely interesting. " Toomai of the Ele- 
phants " and " Rikki-Tikki-Tavi " are also among the best 
of the stories of India. 

And yet, more than anything else, I think it is the style 
that finds such universal favor for these books. Written 
for children, they cannot but impress all those who read 
them, if they are at all sensitive to the spirit Kipling puts 
into these stories. And in reading them, they will pre- 
pare themselves to read deeper and more "grown-up" 
books of Kipling. 


No. 1. A list of those whose work would have been used had space 

No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to encouragement. 


Bruce T. Simonds 
Elizabeth Howland 
Pauline Nichthauser 
Georgina Schlueter 
Ralph Perry 
Ruth Jean 

Esther C. Brown 
Allene M. Reynolds 
Jessie Kupfer 
Charlotte E. Dakin 
Florence L. Kite 
Margaret Conkling 

Katharine Wardrope 
Use Bosch 
Adelina Longaker 
Elizabeth Wilkinson 
Margaret E. Taylor 
Louis Volchok 
John A. Flick 
Susan Lee Waugh 
Miriam L. Smith 
Ruth G. Porter 
Lorraine Ransom 
Mildred Menhinick 
Catherine Van Cook 
Katharine E. Biggs 
Edward S. Hyde 
Frances Moyer Ross 
Ralph G. Williams 
Fritz Korb 
Florence M. Moote 
Marjorie Trotter 
Kathleen C. Brough 
Mildred Roberts 
Laura Paris 
Edith M. Sprague 
Velma M. Jolly 
Catharine H. Straker 
A. J. Bush 
Dorothy Klein Ross 
Edna Anderson 
Elizabeth Gardiner 
Jennie Spindler 
Stella Green 
Edmund T. Price 
Katharine Goetz 
Rosamond Ritchie 
Margaret May 

Eugenie M. Lynch 
Tekla Fichtner 
Beatrice E. Maule 
Grace Winterburn 
Rose M. Davis 
Winifred Ward 
Lucile A. Watson 
Anna Getz Eberbach 
Clarice Goff 
Margaret White 
Minnie C. Pallatroni 

Florence Babette 

Elizabeth Jenkins 
Katharine Davis 
Paul Smith 
Edith Stickney 
Shirlie Swallow 
Lester Parker 
Naomi Ann Verel 
Margaret Olds 
Ruth Starr 

Dessie N. Shackelford 
Helen L. Eckel 
Edith Burdick 
Margaret Ritsher 

Anna B. Stearns 
Angela Richmond 
Norah Culhane 
Eloise Liddon 
Walter Lewis Ford 
Dorothy Ward 
Harriet Wickwire 
Eliza M. Piggott 
Marian Stabler 
Temple Burling 
Ruth S. Mann 
Elizabeth H. Cheney 
Carolyn C. Wilson 
May Spiro 
Margery Swett 


Grace Merchant 
Margaret Otheman 
Roy W. Benton 
Helen S. Kennedy 
Alice Parker 
Ruth Leipziger 
Stella Starr 
Dorothy Speare 


Ethel Anna Johnson 
Alice Phelps Rider 
Margery Abbott 
Lois Donovan 
Jeannette Munro 
Ruth Livingston 
Adelaide Fairbanks 
Elaine V. Rosenthal 

Julia Williamson Hall 
Doris Halman 
Lucie Marucchi 
Washington Irving 

Constance Wilcox 
Mary Sedgwick 
Perry Bailey 
Therese H. 

Katharine Balderston 
Marjorie F. May 
Mary de Lorme 

van Rossen 
Magdalen Catherine 

Frances C. Hamlet 
Katharine Ryerson 



Catherine Dunlop 

Marion F. Hayden 
Genevieve Elizabeth 

Jeannette P. Parritt 
Paul Daniels 
Agnes Mackenzie 

T illi . G. Menary 
Marion Hay Luce 
Lillie Schlotterei 


Harry J. Burden 
Grace T. Richards 
Margaret G. Brown 
Audrey G. Hargreaves 
Dorothy Clement 
Dora Guy 

Helen Amy Seymour 
Alison Kingsbury 
John Matthew 
Agnes I. Prizer 
Marshall Williamson 
Margaret Brate 
Wilbur Carrick 
Helen P. Underwood 
Geraldine L. White 
Kate Griffin 
Abraham R. Zunser 
Beatrice Woods 
Bodil Hornemann 
Doris A. Carpenter 
Sybil Emerson 
William E. Fay 
William Baker 
Viola G. Cushman 
Vernet Lee 
Margaret K. Turnbull 
Lilian Prentiss 
Helen F. Morgan 
Lily K. Westervelt 
Stella E. Grier 
Theresa R. Abell 
Dorothy Dauson 
Florence A. Wagner 
Alexander Nussbaum 
Theresa J. Jones 
Martha H. Chandler 
Edna Lois Taggart 
Helen Belda 
Ethel M. Shearer 
D. Rutherford Collins 
Dorothy Ochtman 
Robert Maclean 
Margaret A. Foster 
Harrison B. McCreary 
Ruth Streatfield 
L. William Quanchi 
Marian Walter 
Hollis Smith 
Winifred Orde 
George P. Lindberg 
Priscilla H. Fowle 
Gladys Wright 
Doris Lisle 
Violette A. Child 
Stephaine Damianakes 
Helen Goodwin 
Ellen Trabue 
Dorothy Taylor 


Lydia M. Scott 
Arthur Blue 
Farah V. Denniston 
Henrietta H. Learning 



Emily P. Welsh 
Evelyn Taggart 
Florence Rideout 
Dorothy Hall 
Mary Chrisman Muir 
Eunice S. Williams 
Anna S. Alexandre 
Gretchen Wolle 
Frances W. Levy 
Reginald Ashbey 
Elizabeth Wight 
Martha Lamberton 
Helen Ross 
Gladys Gardner 
A. G. Redpath 
Dana Braislin 
Dorothy Rankin 
Leven C. Allen, Jr. 
Sara S. Carson j 

Mary Valentine 
Louise Curtis 
MarjorieM. Frink 


Mary Green Mack 
E. Adelaide Hahn 
G. W. Mclver, Jr. 
Aimee E. Taggart 


Teresa M. Pearcy 
Samuel Wagner, Jr. 
Marguerite Magruder 
Mitchell T. Levin 
Josephine Dodds 
Dorothy G. Pownall 
Irene C. Smith 
Julia F. Brice 
Edna Hills 
Emmet Mueller 
Marguerite Seville 
Eliza Frissell 
Asa Smith Bushnell 
Louise Dorothy Bloom 
Louise Petterson 
J. Mortimer West 
Elizabeth Persons 
Freda Fripp 
Florence Greene 
Janet Ackerman 
Marjory Boyus 
Dorothy Griggs 
Marian Howe 
Marjory Boomer 
Esther Sheldon 
Jean Toeplitz 
Helen Frickstad 
William Hyde Payne 
George W. Benedict, 

J r - . . 

Josephine Sturgis 
Emilie Wagner 
Allan Lincoln 
Langley, Jr. 

AGE 13. 

W. W. Colquitt, Jr. 
Henry P. Brown 
Edmund Campbell 
L. W. Kaufman 
Gladys Bowen 
George M. Enos 
Shirley G. Pettus 
Margaret Kew 
Fred Dehls 
Elinor W. Roberson 
Helen M. Mack 
George D. Stout 
Ella Fred 

Grace Lowenhaupt 
Joseph Trombetti 
Eleanor W.Parker 
Lawrence Hugo Fleet 
Hazel B. Freeman 
Arthur Poulin 


Walter W. Cox 
Katharine C. Colbert 
Putnam Macdonald 
Mary Alice Newton 
Margaret Barber 
Edith Fitch 
Walter Weiskoff 
Mary G. Heiner 
Elliott Goldmark 
Dorothy Bowman 
Harvey S. Reynolds 


LATE. Richard A. Brown, Jean L. Little, Theodore B. Beebe, 
Irene McHugh, David Harris Willson, Virginia S. Brown, Wanda Whit- 
man, William Schechter, Thomas Lamb, Katherine C. Colbert, Irma 
Miller, Evelyn Fowler, Frederick Lent, Edith Peacock, Mary Kraybill, 
Eloise Hazard. 

NO AGE. Jcsephine Witherspoon, Everett Marston, Pauline Jen- 
nings, Helen Mack, Ernest Johnson, Ward Cheney, Harry Lake, Louis 
Kahn, Anita B. Davidson, Chase Donaldson, Miriam Shepherd, G. 
Greene, Ruth McClelland, Lois A. Sprigg, Earle Bathgate, Harold 
Stansbury, John Mitchell, Rudolph W. Weitz, Gerald Franklin. 

NOT INDORSED. Ruth W. Weeks, John C. Warner, Joseph C. 
Perrett, Ellarson Stout, Viola Strong, Paula Leichter, Kathryn Grin- 

nell, Wilma Wilson, Margaret Edmonds, Robert P. Hackett, Sally 
Spensley, Thelma Raencher, John A. Frank. 

NO ADDRESS. William H. de Lancey, Helen Rand, Melville P. 
Cummin, Odette M. Burgineres, Edward Rowse, Anne Page, L. Ida 
Thomas, Jacques Leon Wolff, Helen S. Ingmundson, Allen Saalburg, 
Leslie Saalburg. 

INCOMPLETE ADDRESS. Marjorie Woodworth, Lucile Stod- 
dard, Marian Holt, Phyllis Ramsey, James G. Fximonds, Henry B. 
Humphrey, Helen L. Bingham, Emma K. Cerf, Lansing G Hoden, 
Jr., Fredericka Lee Heimendahl. 

WRITTEN ON BOTH SIDES. Katherine J. Levy, Ruth C. Rob- 
inson, Ruth Cox. 

ford, Mary Ferrell, Carolyn McCay, Robert Pomeroy, Helen Page 
Jackson, Loraine Simmons, Aimee Atlee Truan. 


The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges 
each month for the best original poems, stories, draw- 
ings, photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, oc- 
casionally, cash prizes of five dollars each to a gold-badge 
winner who shall, from time to time, again win first place. 

Competition No. 128 will close June 10 (for foreign 
members June 15). Prize announcements will be made 
and the selected contributions published in St. Nicholas 
for October. 

Verse. To comain not more than twenty-four lines. 
Subject, "Rest," or " Restfulness. " 

Prose. Story or article of not more than three hundred 
and fifty word? . Subject, " What I Would Like to Do 
After Vacation." 

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue 
prints or negatives. Subject, " A Vacation Scene." 

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. 
Subject, " Something Out of Doors " or a Heading or a 
Tail-piece for October. 

Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an- 
swer in full, and must be indorsed. 

Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set 
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas. 
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on 
the first page of the " Riddle-box." 

Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur- 
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The 
prizes in the "Wild Creature Photography" competition 
shall be in four classes, as follows : Prize, Class A, a 
gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold 
badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge. 
Prize, Class D, a silver badge. But prize-winners in this 
competition (as in all the other competitions) will not receive 
a second gold or silver badge. 

Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re- 
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed 
and stamped envelop of the proper size to hold the manu- 
script, drawing, or photograph. 


Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not, 
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and 
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who 
has reached the age of eighteen years may compete. 

Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the 
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as 
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be 
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied, 
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the 
number of words should alsobeadded. These things must 
not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itself — 
if manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, on the 
margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper 
only. A contributor may send but one contribution a 
month — not one of each kind, but one only. 
Address : The St. Nicholas League, 

Union Square, New York. 



{A Nonsensical Ballad) 


The Countess Concertina, whose other name was Smith 
(Which I regret, because there 's nothing much to rhyme it with), 
While sitting on a bank one day, and eating angel cake, 
Fell first into a reverie, and then into a lake. 

Perhaps right here I ought to say (it 's nothing to conceal) 
That the Countess was the sweetheart of Sir August Ausgespiel. 
He was very brave and very tall and handsome, too, you know, 
And had blue eyes,— but ah ! he also had a Secret Foe ! 



\ ^-'\. 

Of a 


foe, he was a wizard (and a clumsy one as well) 
had secretly been seeking for a spell for quite a spell ; 
he did his wizzing mostly in the solitude and gloom 
musty, dusty, gusty, chill, rheumatic attic room. 



Of course this wizard had a cat ; of course the cat was black : 
And sparks flew forth when back and forth one rubbed this 

black cat's back. 
The wizard called him Henry (another awkward rhyme!), 
And his paws were all so double he took two steps at a time. 



A /i|iti<Wb 

One day, the wizard being out and everything quite still 
Henry, feeling rather silly, leaped up on the window-sill 
But, owing to his double paws, he could not pause at all, 
So his unseasonable spring led to an early fall. 

When Henry fell, he landed (falls are apt to end that way) 
Right in the bridal carriage of the Baron Popinjay! 
The Baron jumped; the driver yelled; the horses champed their bits; 
Henry went off in a hurry ; and the bride went off in fits. 

This Baron was a scientist, in fact was much renowned 
(You maj' have read his treatise on, "Why is a Circle Round?") ; 
He was also quite an orator, though rather short of breath, 
And he talked a poor old lion once (folks say) almost to death. 

Well, this ballad has acquainted you with all there is to tell- 
Although I have no doubt that many other things befell. 
But, like Countess Concertina, I 'm absent-minded, too, 
And I 've forgotten everything but what I 've told to you. 



Denver, Coi.. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have been a subscriber of yours for 
a little over a year and I can't begin to tell how much I enjoy 
you. My favorite stories are " Kingsford, Quarter " and 
the "Betty Stories," although I am very fond of the 
League and Letter-box. 

I thought I would tell you about my cat who will be four 
years old in May. His name is Tiger, but he really 
does n't live up to it except in his looks. When he was 
six months old he was caught in a trap and no one thought 
he would live, but he did. When he was a year and a 
half old a bulldog caught him and he ran under the cellar 
steps and had to be dug out. Then when he was two 
years old he was nailed under the floor of a new house and 
there he stayed for two weeks without food or water until 
he was found. A few months ago he was threatened 
to be killed because he was in the habit of singing sere- 
nades under people's windows. So he only has five of his 
nine lives left. 

Every summer I go to my grandmother's farm in Wis- 
consin, and from there I take a trip on the Great Lakes 
up to the Leo Cheneaux Islands, where my father, mother, 
and I are going to camp next year. 

Your loving reader, 

Helen Bingham (age 12). 

Hamburg, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Thank you so much for sending 
me the League button and certificate. I think the button 
is very pretty and I want to have the certificate framed 
with my " Betsy Ross" certificate that I got when I was 
a little girl. 

I have taken the St. Nicholas for nearly five years and 
I would not part with it for anything. 

I am very much interested in the League, and I think 
some of the school-room incidents are very funny, espec- 
ially the one on the "Result of Laziness," which I think 
I would like to follow myself sometimes. 

From your very interested reader, 

Adelaide C. Webster. 

Edwardsburg, Idaho. 
My dear St. Nicholas: A long time ago my mother 
was a little girl living on a plantation in Alabama. Every 
night she used to sit by a big wood fire and read St. 
Nicholas, for she was lonely after her little sister died, 
just as I am lonely who never had a little sister or brother 
to lose. 

When I learned to read I began to have St. Nicholas 
for company at night, for it is the nicest book in the world. 

I am a boy eleven years old, and have to study at home as 
I live in a cabin away off in the Idaho mountains. 

Our cabin has six rooms and we have books on all the 
walls. Mail comes in just once a week and we do not see 
many people except the men who work in the mine. 

My father built a wagon road last summer, and is put- 
ting up a mill to treat the ore — gold, silver, and lead. The 
ore runs $130 to the ton and is getting richer. Every day 
the men let me run the car out to the dump and I am learn- 
ing to be a real good expert. You have to know everything 
about a mine, so I am starting at the bottom. 

Every day I take a run on my skees for they are faster 
than snow-shoes. I never see any boys and girls so my 
cat climbs on my shoulder as I put on my skees and my dog 
Ginger follows me up the trail. We go up to the sawmill, 
then turn round and spin home. The snow is four feet 
deep by our cabin door, and fifteen feet on the summits, so 

the dogs have a hard time breaking trail after every storm. 
The dogs bring mail to us once a week and when my dog 
Ginger barks and runs to the bridge we listen for the car- 
rier to call out mail. 

Your friend, 

Napier Edwards. 

Bridgeport, Conn. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I like to read the interesting letters 
of the girls and boys who are abroad, they have so many 
things to tell about. 

We have an automobile, and last summer we went to 
Twin Lakes and up to Litchfield, and traveled all among 
the Berkshires. At Great Barrington we stopped at the 
Inn for the night ; inside they had a little fountain 
where you could take a drink of water, and the water flowed 
all the way down from one of the highest mountains near 
Great Barrington. 

In Bridgeport I belong to a " Kind Deed Club." To 
belong you sign a little pledge saying, " I will try to be 
kind to every living thing and be pleasant in my home." 
Your interested reader, 

Margaret Macdonald (age 11). 

West Brookfield, Mass. 
My dear St. Nicholas: I enjoy reading the St. Nich- 
olas Magazine very much. My sisters and I are reading 
the " Betty Stories " together. 

My sister and I go two miles and a half to school. We 
have had a three weeks' vacation and go back to school to- 

We have for pets a lamb, two sheep, a dog, four cats, 
and some hens. I like to work on the farm, and just now 
I am testing my father's seed-corn. 

One of my brothers is a professor in Cornell University. 
He surprised us last Saturday by coming home when we 
did not expect him. 

We expect to have the two hundredth anniversary of 
the Brookfields in our town next summer. The old town 
of Brookfield is mentioned in American history. 

Our house is about one hundred and sixteen years old. 
It has always been in the hands of my ancestors. 

The first frame house that was built in this vicinity was 
set in our front yard. 

Your interested reader, 

Florence E. Gilbert. 

Flora Dale, Pa. 
My dear St. Nicholas : I have taken you for four years, 
and thought maybe you would like to know how I get you. 

I live in the country about ten miles from Gettysburg. 
I raise chickens and sell the eggs to my mother. My 
father has his business office in the house, and often when 
he needs help he will call me, and for this help he pays me. 
So you see I earn my St. Nicholas myself. 

I have been over the battle-field of Gettysburg twice, and 
it is very interesting. I saw President Roosevelt when he 
visited the town several years ago. 

My grandmother and grandfather lived in Gettysburg at 
the time of the battle, and moved all their valuable pos- 
sessions in a trunk which they carted on a wheelbarrow. 
My grandmother often tells me of it and shows me some 
letters she wrote at the time, but which were never mailed 
because they could not get through the lines. 
Your loving reader, 

Esther Corinne Tyson. 




-- - - - — ^&^3§JK! 

m ThbRiddlbBoxPI! 


Novel Double Acrostic. Initials, Charles Dickens ; fourth row, 
Pickwick Papers. Cross-words: i. Compare. 2. Holiday. 3. Ab- 
scond. 4. Rocking. 5. Leeward. 6. Envious. 7. Sincere. 8. 
Dockage. 9. Inspect. 10. Capable. n. Keeping. 12. Expense. 
13. Narrate. 14. Subside. 

St. Andrew's Cross. I. 1. N. 2. Cob. 3. Canes. 4. Nonagon. 
5. Began. 6. Son. 7. N. II. 1. N. 2. Her. 3. Hates. 4. Nettler. 
5. Relet. 6. Set. 7. R. III. 1. N. 2. Nor. 3. Names. 4. Nomi- 
nor. 5. Renew. 6. Sow. 7. R. IV. 1. N. 2. Sir. 3. Sages. 4. 
Niggler. 5. Relax. 6. Sex. 7. R. V. 1. R. 2. War. 3. Women. 

4. Rambler. 5. Relet. 6. Net. 7. R. 

Rebus. Money makes money, and the money that money makes, 
makes more money. 

Double Acrostic. Primals, Thackeray ; finals, Pendennis. Cross- 
words : 1. Transship. 2. Hi-ppolyte. 3. Affection. 4. Contested. 

5. Kearsargc. 6. Excursion. 7. Recession. 8. Alighieri. 9. Yata- 

Novel Acrostic. Primalr, Doctor Cook ; fourth row, Lieut. Peary. 
Cross-words: 1. Darling. 2. Outings. 3. Cruelly. 4. Toquets. 5. 
Ousting. 6. Ripping. 7. Cements. 8. Obtains. 9. Obtrude. 10. 
Katydid. Charade. In-sin-u-ate. 

Central Acrostic. Firth of Clyde. Cross-words: 1. Fifty. 2. 
Idiot. 3. Barge. 4. Otter. 5. Bohea. 6. Shoes. 7. Jiffy. 8. Locks. 
9. Wells. 10. Thyme. 11. Hedge. 12. Cheer. 

Zigzag. Decoration Day. Cross-words: 1. Dense. 2. Fence. 
3. Laces. 4. Baton. 5. Flour. 6. Clear. 7. Natty. 8 Silly. 9. 
Onion. 10. Unite, n. India. 12. Bleak. 13. Hurry. 

Novel Double Acrostic. William Shakspere : fourth row, An- 
tony and Cleopatra. Cross-words: 1. Wheaten. 2. Sinning. 3. Lot- 
tery. 4. Flooded. 5. Ironing. 6. Lawyers. 7. Minaret. 8. Asi- 
nine. 9. Hinders. 10. Balcony. n. Keelson. 12. Beneath. 13. 
Scholar. 14. Epopees. 15. Eatable. 16. Captain. 17. Repress. 18. 

Cross-word Enigma. Henry Longfellow. 

Connected Squares. I. 1. Zebra. 2. Error. 3. Bribe. 4 
Robin. 5. Arena. II. 1. Babel. 2. Abate. 3. Bathe. 4. Ether. 5 
Leers. III. 1. Eagle. 2. Arian. 3. Giant. 4. Lance. 5. Enter 
IV. 1. Anneal. 2. Needle 3. Nebula. 4. Educed. 5. Allege. 6. 
Leader. V. 1. Sedate. 2. Eleven. 3. Defeat. 4. Averse. 5 
Teaser. 6. Enters. VI. 1. Carol. 2. Aroma. 3. Robes. 4. Omens 
5. Lasso. VII. 1. Rifle. 2. Ideas. 3. Fears. 4. Larva. 5. Essay 
VIII. 1. Sable. 2. Again. 3. Based. 4. Liege. 5. Ended. 

To our Puzzlers : Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 10th of each month, and should be ad- 
dressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the March Number were received before March 10 from Philip Warren Thayer — " Queenscourt " 
— Marjorie A. Cohn— Madelon Deschere— Frank Black — Florence West — Judith Ames Marsland— Edith Smith — Avis E. Edgerton — Frank M. 
Aukamp— Frances Mclver — Harry Guthmann — M. W. Johnstone — Morgan Piatt Underwood — Marian Shaw — " Benjo " — Alan D. Bush- 
Marion K. Valentine — Ruth Collins Allen — Frances Crosby Hamlet — "Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie " — Gavin Watson — Marjorie L. Waterbury — 
" The Quartette " — Dorothy Harmon — Madeleine W. Abbott — Oscar Lindow — Vera G. Handy — Alice H. Farnsworth — Bertha E. Widmeyer — 
"Lord Baltimore" — John R. Schmertz— Agnes L. Thomson. 

Answers to Puzzles in the March Number were received before March 10th from J. Work, 3 — E. Ewer, 2 — Mary Peebles, 10 — Lorraine 
H. Rutherford, 8 — E. Breitwieser, 2— Edna Meyle, 10 — F. Neave, 6 — M. G. Bonner, 2 — Marjory Roby, 5 — M. Arnold, 3 — J. Brandt, 3 — S. 
Greene, 7— M. M. Dreyfus, 9— A. B. North, 5— M. A. Brown, 5— E. Whittier, 5— Elsa M. A. Korb, 6. 

So many sent answers to one puzzle that, for lack of space, these cannot be acknowledged. 


(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 
All of the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below 
another, the diagonal (beginning at the upper, left-hand 
letter and ending with the lower, right-hand letter) will 
spell the surname of a great writer. 

Cross-words : I. A river of Pennsylvania. 2. Par- 
ticular expression of countenance as expressing character. 
3. Belonging to the hyacinth. 4. The art of a workman. 
5. A malediction. 6. Differences. 7. Histories of the 
lives of people. 8. Discourtesies. 9. A duplicate. 10. 
A city of Pennsylvania. 11. To scatter. 



I. Doubly curtail a state and leave a feminine name. 2. 
Doubly curtail thick, and leave a cave. 3. Doubly curtail 
a rtmge of mountains, and leave a conjunction. 

When rightly curtailed, the three remaining words will 
form a word-square. 

Schuyler hazard (League Member). 


I AM composed of thirty letters and form a quotation from 
Shakspere. All the characters named may be found in 
his plays. 

My 19-7-17 is a tinker. My 13-27-15-26-20-30-6 is an 

exile's daughter. My 22-8-13-1 1-28 is the hero of a plav. 
My 24-2-14-23-3-5-19 is the Duke of Athens. My 4-5-18- 
2S-16-29 is a carpenter. My 2-14-25-21 is a daughter of 
the Governor of Messina. My 12-21-29 is what Montague 
was to Capulet. My 1-10-15-26-20-9 is the name of an 
apparition of a hound named in the closing lines of Act IV 
of " The Tempest." 

ROLFE HUMPHRIES (League Member). 






































































































By moving from one square to another in any direction 
(as in the king's move in chess) the name of a famous 
writer may be spelled out, also six of his famous books. 
The spelling is continuous, — a new start need not be made 
for each of the seven names ; and each letter is used but 

Kenneth c. MC KENZIE (League Member). 




In this puzzle the words are pictured instead of described. 
The answer, from Ben Jonson, consists of thirty-four let- 
ters. It is a quotation that may be heeded by those who 
are too ambitious. 


My first is a color and also a name; 

And money I never have seen is my second ; 
My third has a great deal to do with your sight, 

While my fourth is a number that 's easily reckoned. 
I hope that my whole you never will do 

To any dear comrade who 's friendly with you. 


All the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below 
another, the initial letters will spell the name of a general; 
another row will spell the name of a battle with which his 
name is associated. 

Cross-words: i. Tidings. 2. An exclamation. 3. 
Indulges. 4. A sign. 5. Wisdom. 6. Snake-like fish. 
7. Scent. 8. A small, secluded retreat. 

REBECCA s. janney (League Member). 

Triply behead and curtail to enroll, and leave a verb. 13. 
Triply behead and curtail a forerunner, and leave an in- 
ferior dog. 14. Triply behead and curtail perversely, and 
leave conflict. 15. Triply behead and curtail benefit, and 
leave an emmet. 16. Triply behead and curtail giving up, 
and leave to deliver. 17. Triply behead and curtail per- 
ception, and leave was seated. 

When the foregoing beheadings and curtailings have been 
rightly made, the initials of the remaining words (which 
contain from two to six letters) will spell something familiar 
to many pupils in Latin. 



{Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 
Example : Triply behead and curtail ardor, and leave a 
sea-eagle. Answer, Eag-ern-ess. 

I. Triply behead and curtail found, and leave a little bay. 
2. Triply behead and curtail members of a senate, and 
leave a preposition. 3. Triply behead and curtail one who 
accompanies as a companion or servant, and leave conclu- 
sion. 4. Triply behead and curtail to combine, and leave 
firm. 5. Triply behead and curtail conforms in shape or 
character, and leave everything. 6. Triply behead and 
curtail to cause to be acquainted, and leave a measure of 
length. 7. Triply behead and curtail persistent, and leave 
to cut apart. 8. Triply behead and curtail slanting, and 
leave to depart. 9. Triply behead and curtail to make a 
gallant of, and leave everything. 10. Triply behead and 
curtail an alliance, and leave kindled. 11. Triply behead 
and curtail bounding awav, and leave to cut off. 12. 

1. Upper Square: i. The French word for "after." 

2. A dried plum. 3. An East Indian coin. 4. A great 
epic poem. 5. Germs. 

II. Left-hand Square: i. Portions. 2. Sky-blue. 

3. An East Indian coin. 4. To walk. 5. Sows. 

III. Central Square: i. Planted in spring. 2. To 
settle an income upon. 3. A magistrate of ancient Rome. 

4. A musical term meaning " softly and sweetly." 5. To 
clean by brushing. 

IV. Right-hand Square: i. Part of an old well. 2. 
An aquatic mammal. 3. Earnest. 4. A gum used in 
making varnishes. 5. Danger. 

V. Lower Square, i. A long stroke. 2. To work 
with a loom. 3. A rest for a picture. 4. An occurrence. 

5. Skins of beasts. 




Good Morning! IVe had my 
Toasted Corn Flakes. 



Kellogg Toasted Corn Flake Co., Battle Creek, Mich. 

Canadian trade supplied by tlie Battle Creek Toasted 
Corn Flake Co.. Ltd., London, Ont. 

June 1910 

Copyright igog, Kellogg Toasted Corn Flake Co, 




One thing the wise col- 
lege girl knows. Karo 
makes dandy fudge, 
butter-scotch and taffy— 

and that she can't get the same good- 
ness and flavor without it. It is a 
pure, wholesome sweet for all cook- 
ing and table uses— and agrees with 



Eat it on Use it for 

Griddle Cakes Ginger Bread 

Hot Biscuit Cookies 

Waffles l Candy- 

Send your name on a post card for Karo Cook 

Book— fifty pages, including thirty perfect recipes for 

home candy making. 

Corn Products Refining Company 

»ept."H.H." NEW YORK I».o.Boxl61 



"No!— Mother 

Told Me 

to Buy 



It's good for the children to cul- 
tivate the "NECCO" spirit, because 
NECCO SWEETS are good for 
them. When they want any kind 
of confectionery, simple or elabor- 
ate, have them say "NECCO" — 
the wholesomeness will take care 
of itself. Every piece sold under 
the "NECCO" seal. 

At all leading dealers. 



A Rest 

is likely what you 
need most right 
now. Take a real 
rest — and relieve 
all stomach, kid- 
ney and liver 
troubles and indi- 
gestion — at 

French LicK 

"West Baden Springs 

Don't suffer from rheumatism either, when you can drink 
the waters at this "America's greatest watering place" — 
unsurpassed by even the most famous Spa in Europe for 
curative qualities. Take a pleasant trip, meet delightful 
people, enjoy ideal, healthful recreation at one of these 
noted resorts. 

Located in Southern Indiana on the Monon . For in- 
formation about rates, etc., address 

FRANK J. REED, General Passenger Agent 
Republic Building, Chicago 



The Winning Crew 

Must have strong hearts and steady nerves, as well as 
strong muscles. 

The "shortness of breath" caused by coffee is a sign of 
weak heart. Athletes know it and they quit coffee and many 


It is made of wheat, skilfully roasted, including the bran- 
coat which Nature has stored with Phosphate of Potash for 
supplying the gray substance in brain and nerves. 

"There's a Reason" for Postum 

Postum Cereal Company, Limited, Battle Creek, Mich., U. S. A. 

St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. 102. 

Time to hand in answers is up June 10. Prizes awarded in August number. 

JUNE is the month when school 
closes and St. Nicholas read- 
ers all over the country are looking 
forward to different kinds of vaca- 
tions. They are perfecting their 
plans for their trips which will 
extend for varied lengths of time; 
from the single day's outing co 
some favorite retreat, to the three 
months' trip abroad. 

What article advertised in St. 
Nicholas would you like best to 
take with you on your trip ? Tell in 
an essay of about 500 words why 
you make this choice. 

There are numerous reasons 
which can be given on behalf of 
any of the advertised articles in St. 
Nicholas. Study the article you 
choose and write an entertaining 
story of how you would use it. 

Do not attempt to choose more 
than one article, because the Ad- 
vertising Editor wants you to give 
as full a description as possible of 
the merits of the article you prefer. 

The Judges would like to dis- 
cover how much you really know 
about the articles that you see an- 
nounced every month in your mag- 
azine. They would like to know 
whether the arguments of the man- 
ufacturers have made any impres- 
sion on you and whether you are 
retaining in your mind any idea of 
what they are spending money to 
tell you. 

Some time ago, in fact it was 
last September, the Judges gave 
you a competition which was called 

(See also 


"The Vacation Competition," in 
which you were to tell what ad- 
vertised articles you used on your 
vacation trip. You will observe 
that the present competition is an 
entirely different one, because you 
are to write about only one article, 
and you are to tell why that one 
article is your choice. 

Now, please, everybody, young 
and old, rich and poor, high and 
low, prize-winners and just ordinary 
jolly children of all ages, sit right 
down and write your story and send 
it in to St. Nicholas. 

The address you must use is given 
below. You will have an oppor- 
tunity to do this before your yearly 
examinations begin. 

Here are best wishes for a good 
vacation for you all. 

The prizes and conditions are as follows: 

One First Prize, $5.00. 
Two Second Prizes, $3-°° each. 
Three Third Prizes, $2..oo each. 
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each. 

1. This competition is open freely to all who may desire 
to compete, without charge or consideration of any kind. 
Prospective contestants need not be subscribers for St. 
Nicholas in order to compete for the prizes offered. 

2. In the upper left-hand corner of your,paper, give 
name, age, address, and the number of this competition 
(102). Judges prefer that the sheet be not larger than 
7^ x 10 inches. 

3. Submit answers by June 10, 1910. Use ink. Do 
not inclose stamps. 

4. Do not inclose requests for League badges or 
circulars. Write separately for these if you wish them, 
addressing ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE. 

5. Be sure to comply with these conditions if you 
wish to win prizes. 

6. Address answers: Advertising Competition No. 
102, St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York, 
N. V. 

Advertising Editor. 

page 10.) 


About Summer Dresses for the Children 

To Mothers 

You can keep the children neatly and attractively dressed 
at little expense, with the aid of Diamond Dyes. 

For, if the little ones' dresses" have become soiled or 
faded, you can make them look like new again. 

It is just as easy as washing a handkerchief to do this, 

Just get a 10-cent package of Diamond Dyes. Let it dis- 
solve in boiling water, add the goods, and the faded blouse, 
or jumper, or dress will be restored to its natural color. 
Or you can have a bright, new color if you wish. 

You can make the soiled white dress a beautiful pink or 
rose, a nice shade of blue or red — or any color you want. 

Or, if the dress be faded, or you don't like the original 
color, you can change the color, too. 

The faded pink can be changed to most any color. And 
blue or red, violet or brown, any color, in fact, can be 
changed to a pretty shade of some sort or other. For Dia- 
mond Dyes you know come in 18 different colors. 

Give Diamond Dyes a trial and you '11 see how economi 
cally you can dress the children. 

You Take No Risk With Diamond Dyes 

You can use Diamond Dyes and be sure of the results 
You can use them with perfect safety on the most expen- 
sive goods — and there is no danger of the goods becoming 
spotted or streaked or harmed in any way. 

Faded hosiery, silk gloves, veils, and feathers can be 
made to look like new with their use. 

Portieres, couch-covers, ribbons, sashes, and trimmings 
of all kinds are given new life and added beauty. 

And for dyeing dress goods, faded garments, skirts, 
waists, and suits — Diamond Dyes are invaluable both in 
economy and usefulness. 

Diamond Dyes are "The Standard of the World," and 
the only dyes perfect in formula, positive in action, certain 
in result. 

The Truth About the Use of Dyes 

Diamond Dyes are the Standard of the world and always 
give perfect results. You must be sure that you get the real 
Diamond Dyes and the kind of Diamond Dyes adapted to the 
article you intend to dye. 

Beware of imitations of Diamond Dyes. Imitators wbo make 
only one kind of dye, claim that tbeir imitations will color Wool, 
Silk or Cotton (" all fabrics") equally well. This claim is false, 
because no dye that will give the finest results on Wool, Silk or 
other an mm I fibres, can be used successfully for dyeing Cotton. 
Linen, or other vegetable fibres. . Por this reason we make two 
kinds of Diamond Dyes, namely: Diamond Dyes for Wool, and 
Diamond Dyes for Cotton. 

Diamond Dyes for Wool should not be used for coloring 
Cotton, Linen, or Mixed Goods, as they are especially adapted 
for Wool, Silk, or other animal fibres which take up the dye 

Diamond D)*es for Cotton are especially adapted for Cot- 
ton, Linen, or other vegetable fibres, which take up the dye 

"Mixed Goods" also known as "Union Goods" are made 
chiefly of either Cotton, Linen, or other vegetable fibres. For 
this reason our Diamond Dyes for Cotton are the best dyes 
made for these goods. 

niomnnrl TlvA Anniial^pRFr Send us your name and address (be sure to mention your dealer's name 
l/ldlllUllU JL/JC /\llllUal I l\LtLt a „d te ll us whether he sells Diamond Dyes) and we will send you a copy 
of the famous Diamond Dye Annual, a copy of the Direction Hook, and 36 samples of dyed cloth, all FREE. Address 



Report on Competition Number ioo. 

" SISTER Anne ! Sister Anne ! do you see 
any one coming?" 

"Yes, Fatima, I do. I see several old 
gentlemen in velvet suits, with knee- 
breeches and silk stockings and silver 
buckles on their shoon. They totter along 
the road taking snuff, cackling gaily to one 
another, and nodding their powdered wigs 
most wisely. Who can these old gaffers 
be, Sister?" 

"Be? Why, who else but the Judges 
of the One Hundredth Competition? Run, 
Sister dear, and beseech that delightfully 
quaint old gran'sire to rest for a season by 
the ingle-nook. Perhaps he will acquaint 
us with somewhat anent the Competition 
— even tell us the prize-winners, may- 
hap." . . . 

"Eh? Thank'e, thank'e, little dame. I 
will e'en bide for a season in the chimney- 
corner, and rest these four old bones o' 
mine! Yes, yes, — this judging of com- 
petitions is anything but a light task, 
dearies ! Ah, well do I mind me of the 
old days when we were at no more than 
the fifteenth or twentieth of them ! I 
was a younger man then, my children, 
and could crack a walnut with my teeth 
as well as any man o' my inches, or spell 
a word of four syllables without even 
taking off my coat ! Why, I recall as if 
't were last week — " 

" But, Gran'ther, how about the Hun- 
dredth Competition?" 

"I was coming to that — all in good 

" Tell us about it now, please." 

" As you will, dears. 'T was a very fair 
struggle, not like the old ones, perhaps, 
but then times were different when I was 
young. That was in the days when — " 

And here the poor old gentleman fell 
asleep. But later, from one of the younger 
judges — only eighty or so — we learned 
the following facts : It was a very inter- 
esting competition, and for the most part 
well carried out, if you will allow us to 
omit the spelling — which was, in many of 
the papers, something to make a diction- 
ary's hair stand on end ! 

Nearly all the competitors awoke in old 

(See also 

four-poster bedsteads, on feather mat- 
tresses ; arose to seek eagerly for a good 
modern soap ; lamented the lack of some 
brand of tooth-brush and dentifrice; 
washed in most primitive style, and de- 
scended to a porridge breakfast not 
washed down by any of the delicious bev- 
erages now enjoyed. Then came occasions 
for the use of telephones, mail-service, 
trolley-lines, automobiles, and so on ; 
recognition that traveling- was tedious, 
slow and unusual ; longing for cameras, 
and daily newspapers, and bicycles ; dis- 
covery that cooking and other forms of 
housekeeping were most primitive and 
laborious without our labor-saving con- 
trivances and commodities ; and a general 
masterly setting forth of the crudity of 
life a hundred years ago. 

But some competitors" made their pic- 
ture of old-time ways so poetic that they 
defeated the purpose of showing the de- 
fects of such an existence. 

Considering how hard it was to give the 
ancient atmosphere in a limited space, the 
young writers did exceedingly well ; but 
they are advised to read Hans Christian 
Andersen's story of the " Magical Go- 
loshes " to see how a celebrated author 
has dealt with the same problem — having, 
it is true, more space at his disposal. 

Here is the list of 

Prize-Winners : 
One First Prize, $5.00 : 

Clara Snydacker (11). {Age considered.) 
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each : 
Charline M. Wackman (14). 
W. R. Provoost (13). 

Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each : 
Alice D. Wilkinson (14). 
Horatio S. Hilton, Jr. (14). 
Eleanor T. Middleditch (14). 

Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each : 
Charlotte Provoost (16). 
Adelina Longaker (14). 
Alice Fox (13). 
Prudence K. Jamieson (15) 
Helen A. Babbitt (10). 
Ruth Bottum (11). 
Angelina Hamblem (16). 
Eugenia Holland (36). 
Cecil M. Snyder (18). 
Norma Stebbins (10). 

page 8.) 



Through Wonderland 






Send six cents in stamps for 
the most beautiful book on 
ever published. 

Sixty-four pages; sixteen 
full page four-color plates 
from new photographs; a 
score of other views in soft 
one-color half tone. A tri- 
umph of the book-makers' 
art — as interesting as it is 

Those who numbered the 
Northern Pacific's "WON- 
DERLAND" book among 
their library friends, when 
formerly published, will 
welcome this reissuance of 
the work in new dress, with 
new text and illustrations 
— larger and more beauti- 
ful than ever before. 

"Through Wonderland" 
describes and pictures the great- 
est of our national parks, reached 
directly via 

Northern Pacific Railway 

DINER GATEWAY— official 

1910 Season: June 15 to Sept. 

Visit it THIS summer. 

Through sleeping cars direct to the 
boundary, daily during season. 







NEAR the mouth of the St. Lawrence River is a 
small group of islands known as the Magdalen Is- 
lands. In winter these islands are so isolated and 
storm-beaten that communication with the mainland is 
sometimes impossible for months. This winter the 
residents tried a novel experiment of shipping delayed 
mail by means of a barrel. All the letters were first 
carefully packed in a tin can, which, in its turn, was 
sealed up in a stout barrel. The barrel was then fitted 
up with a small iron keel and a rudder. Its diminutive 
sail was hoisted, and on it painted the words " Mag- 
dalen Winter Mail." The craft was then with many 
prayers consigned, to the mercy of the tempestuous seas. 
After twelve days the stanch and sturdy barrel was 
picked up on the mainland, badly bruised and battered, 
sail gone and mast broken, but its precious cargo of mes- 
sages to loved friends was practically safe, a little 
water^soaked here^nd there, but mainly legible. All 
were of course forwarded at once to their destinations. 


WE should all try to get from our stamp collections, 
not only all the pleasure we can, but also all the 
knowledge we can. Undoubtedly we learn much of 
geography, somewhat of history, habits of care and 
method, as well as keenness of observation. All this is 
naturally acquired from the study of stamps. But do 
we learn as much as we should of the proper pronun- 
ciation of names? In this connection I wish to com- 
ment on several common errors. Noticeably, the final 
" k " in names of eastern origin, such as Bangkok, is 
seldom or never sounded. Perak, for instance, should 
be pronounced with along "e" sound, as if spelled 
" Peerah," or rather " Peera." Sarawak is pronounced 
as if spelled " S'rawa." The ever- popular and much 
be-pictured stamps are issued by the country whose 
name is pronounced " Labooan " not Lab-u-an. The 
accent is on the second syllable with the sound of " oo " 
and not " ew. " Another exceedingly popular but often 
mispronounced country, and one whose stamps form a 
beautiful collection, is the Seychelles. " Say-shelles " 
and not Sea-shelles. Say, also, " Bechwanaland," not 
Bech-u-analand. And once more, Port Said is "Sah-id." 
There are other names of stamp- ; ssuing countries which 
it would be well to look up in the pronouncing gazet- 
teers, but the foregoing are the more common errors. 


I^HE first stamps of Sarawak (u+iich country is the 
northwestern coast of Borneo) were issued either 
late in 1868 or early in 1869. They were lithographed 
in brownish-red ink on yellow paper. Only one value 
was issued. There are several canceled copies known 
which are from an engraved plate. These are more of 
an orange-red in color and on a different kind of paper.- 
Their exact status is not definitely known, but they are 
thought to be proofs submitted to the government and 
afterward used for postage. In the corners of the de- 
sign are the four letters J. B. R. S. These at first 
glance seem to be similar in purpose to the letters thus 
placed in the corners of the earlier stamps of Great 
Britain. Such, however, is not the case. The letters 
are the same on all the stamps on the sheet, and stand 
for James Brooke, Rajah of Sarawak. James Brooke, 
who was afterward knighted for his great services to 
humanity in restraining the slave trade and checking 

Malayan piracy, was born in 1803 and educated in Eng- 
land. He distinguished himself in the East while yet a 
young man and in about 1830 saw the island of Borneo 
for the first time. Its beauty and evident importance 
so deeply impressed him that he determined to devote 
his life to an effort to bring civilization to these islands. 
So successful was he that he became Rajah in 1842. 
After his death he was succeeded by a nephew, Charles 
A. Johnson, who later changed his name to Charles 
Johnson Brooke, and whose initials appear in the 
corners of the stamps issued in 1871, after the death of 
Sir James. 

K. K. K. 

RECENTLY in the Philippines a prominent Spanish 
merchant was arrested for having in his possession 
some of the well-known stamps issued for postal and 
revenue purposes by the Philippine Republic under the 
auspices of Aguinaldo. Many of these bear the letters 
" K. K. K.," which do not refer to the Ku-Klux Klan, 
but to another secret society, this time in the far East, 
known as the Katipunam. Some years ago an act 
was passed by the Philippine Commission forbidding 
any exhibition of the arms and insignia of this society. 
The man was arrested because his offering for sale 
stamps bearing the Aguinaldo design was regarded as a 
violation of the edict. The arrest caused quite a little 
anxiety among resident collectors, some of whom were 
rather proud of their collections of " Aguinaldos." 
Their fears have been set at rest by the action of the 
Attorney-General, who has ruled that a collector may 
purchase, own, and show these stamps without coming 
within the meaning of the act. 

^T'T'MIERE are many clubs and societies in the 
^^ A United States devoted entirely to the further- 
ance of stamp-collecting. The aims of these societies 
vary materially from the general collector to the spe- 
cific. It would be well to join the local club of your 
own city, and also one of the' societies of wider scope. 
In the local organization you w.ould come into more per- 
sonal and social contact with the members, and be able 
to do more in the way of exchange of duplicates ; older 
members, too, would take pleasure in explaining the 
puzzling differences in paper, water-marks, and perfora- 
tions. The oldest society in the United States is the 
Rhode Island Philatelic Society; the largest is the 
American Philatelic Society, with nearly 2000 mem- 
bers. C.The so-called " Patent Lines " on envelops are 
characteristic only of the earlier issues. These early en- 
velops are mainly on a diagonally laid paper. On the 
face of some envelops there appear in the make of the 
paper three heavy ruled lines. These lines are the 
" patent lines," and are to serve as a guide upon wdiich 
to write the name and address. The patent was prob- 
ably controlled by the United States, but it is possible 
that some such envelops were sold to the public gen- 
erally by the manufacturers. CTt would be well for 
you to write to the publishers of your catalogue for in- 
formation as to changes in price. Some of these pub- 
lishers issue a monthly supplement of prices for a very 
modest sum per year, and the information contained in 
this is often timely and pertinent. I notice in a recent 
issue of one of these supplements the warning that two 
stamps of Salvador are to be reduced in price from 
$2.50 each to $.08 each, in consequence of a nuniber 
coming on the market. 






to the fine new store, 127 Madison Ave., New York. 

Scott's Catalogue, 800 pages, paper covers, 60c; cloth, 75c; post free. 
Albums, 30c to $55 each. Send for illustrated price-list. 

STAMPS-108 SfR-a^aS 

Chile, Japan, curious Turkey, scarce Paraguay, Philippines, 
Costa Rica, West Australia, several unused, some picture 
stamps, etc., nil for 10c. Big list and copy of monthly 
paper free. Approval sheets, 5o°6 commission. 
SCOTT STAMP & COIN CO., 127 Madison Ave., New York 


Something entirely new that will interest 
every stamp collector, both old and young. 
Write to-day for a. free Sample Stamp Lesson, 
and find out how to become a philatelist. 

New England Stamp Co., 43 Washington Bldg., Boston, Mass. 

Each set 5 cts. — 10 Luxemburg: 8 Fin- 
land; 20 Sweden; 15 Russia; 8 Costa 
Rica; 12 Porto Rico; 8 Dutch Indies; 5 Crete. Lists of 5000 low-priced 
stamps free. CHAMBERS STAMP CO., 

JUG Nassau Street, New York City. 


STAMPS 108 all different, Transvaal, Servia, Brazil, Peru, 
Cape G. H., Mexico, Natal, Tava, etc., and Album, 10c. 1000 
Finely Mixed, 20c. 65 different U.S.. 25c. 1000 hinges. 5c. 
Agents wanted, 50 per cent. last Free. I buy stamps. 
C. Stegman, 5941 Cote Brilliante Av„ St. Louis, Mo. 


100 all different, fine Ecuador, New- 
foundland, etc., only 10c. 100 diff. 
U. S., big: bargain, 30c! 1000 mixed foreign only 20c. List 
free! Agts. wanted. 50perct. L. B. Dover, St. Louis, Mo. 

STAMPS FREE. 15 all different Canadians. 10 India, and 
catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents, and, when possible, send us 
names, addresses of two stamp collectors. Special Offers, no 
two alike. 50 Spain nc, 40 japan 5c, 100 U. S. 20c, 50 Australia 
9c, 10 Paraguay 7c, 10 Uruguay 7c, 17 Mexico 10c, 20 Turkey 7c, 
7 Persia 4c. Agents Wanted 50°o discount. 50 Page List Free. 
DIAKKS STAMP COMPANY. Dept. N. Toronto, Canada. 

Stamps Free! putSFinau 

* free if you sei 

Persia, 3 China, 4 

One of these sets 
send for approvals. Big 
bargain lists, price lists, etc., free. We have an immense stock. 

Stamp Album with 538 genuine Stamps, incl. 
Rhodesia, Congo (tiger). China (dragon), Tasmania (land- 
scape), Jamaica(waterfalls), etc., only 10c. loo diff. Japan, 
India, N. Zld., etc., Sc. Agts. wtd. 50%. Big bargain 
list, coupons, etc., all Free I We Buy Stamps. 
C. E. Hussman Stamp Co., Dep. I, St. Louis, Mo. 

DANDY PACKET STAMPS free, for names two honest collec- 
tors ; 2c postage. Send to-day. U.T. K. STAMP CO., Utica, N.Y. 

SSI STAMPS: 105 China, Esjypt. etc.. stamp dictionary and list 3000 
Hal bargains 3c. Agents, 50%. A. Iiullnrd <fc Co., Sta. A., Boston. 

511 «ii!nl!/,« DCDII C»*a with Trial Approval Sheets. 
varieties Ptnu r ree f. e. thorp, Norwich, n. y. 

Ilniicpri Rritich Colonials, 25 different, 50c ; 5 Barbados, 15c; 4 
UIIIUGU 01111)11 Br New 6 u i nea) S5 c; 5 Br. Honduras, 25c; 8 
Cayman,55c.;5 C7renada.20c; 15 Mauritius, 50c; 4 Rhodesia, 15c; 4 St. 
Helena, 15c; 7 Seychelles, 25c; 10 Straits. 30c. Large stock. Illus- 
trated catalog. Colonial Stamp Co., 350 E. 53d St., Chicago. 

Stamps Free 

100 all different for the names of two collectors 
and 2c postage. 20 different foreign coins, 25c. 
TOLEDO STAMPCO., Toledo, Ohio, U.S. A. 


CDEC No. 82 Newfoundland unused for the addresses of three 
' " ■ " active coll. The Birch Stamp Co., Newtonville, Mass. 

^TiMPQ FPFF Nice packet free if you send 10c for 10 wks sub'n to 
oinmro rnit Mekeel's Weekly Stamp News, Boston, Mass. 

AND BACK (£4 1 A 
(1st Class) 4» JL J, \J 

5 1-2 days from San Franciaco 

The splendid twin-screw steamer Sierra (10,000 tons displacement) 
sails from San Francisco May 28, June 18, and every 21 days. Round 
trip tickets good for 4 mos. Honolulu, the most attractive spot 
on entire world tour. Volcano Kilauea now unusually active. 
Line to Tahiti and New Zealand. S.S. Mariposa, con- 
necting with Union Line, sails May 21, June 29, etc. Tahiti -and 
back (24 days) $125. New Zealand (Wellington) $246.25, 1st class, 
round trip, 6 mos. Book Now. 
Oceanic S. S. Co., 673 Market St., San Francisco, Cal. 



$400.00 in casn prized for the bogs and girls 
who make the bast drawings of the Red Goose. 

We wanfr^rary bo Wand girl to know- 
all about/REx) GOQsBvSchool Shoes, 
the "ALKXeather" Shoes, tmt Shoes that 
are "Fm^t and Best for Boys^id Girls", 
so we) ate offering $400.0Q\n Cash 
Prizesfforfthe best drawings of\ne RED 
GOOSE, \he of this\Vamous 
brand. \ V _ \ 

Every Tx^or girl under sixte|ri years 
of age ca 

Send 5c. in §t«frp 
copy of thed&dfCL^ 
colors, with ninVpoenTi 

I f§$ ^k tainin 

*)/ GODSE- 

can eper. , Costs nothing? to par 
Se"fe list of <prizet printe< 

25 1 



'will mail you a 

ik, printed in six 

ifteen pictures, by 

"t is as enter- 

ristmas book. 



„,, Friedman-Shelby Shoe Co. 

The All Leather Shoe Makers 

£ 901 St. Charles St., St. Louis 

5th. $10. 

6th. 10 of $5 each 

7th. 20 of $2.50 each 

8th. 100 of $1.00 each 

Siher Plate that Wears** 


Spoons, forks and fancy serving pieces proven. 
to give longest service bear the trade mark 



— the stamp that guarantees the heaviest triple plate 

Send for Catalog " T-5 " showing designs. 





(International Silver Co., Successor.) 




A Vagabond Journey Around the World 

"The most important and fascinating travel book 
of the decade." 



The story of a young university man's fifteen 
months' wanderings around the globe, absolutely 
without money save what he earned by the way. 
He had keen powers of observation ; he was in- 
tensely interested in every man, woman, and child 
he met, however wretched and low-caste ; he had 
the Yankee trait of making himself easily at home 
in any and all circumstances; and his story of his 
wanderings is the most vivid picture of native life 
in strange corners of the world that has ever been 
presented. French tramps, underground denizens 
of German cities, Arabs of the desert, high- and 
low-caste people of India — these, and. countless 
others, are shown as real personalities and they 
stand out with the vividness of Kipling characters. 

1 A man can girdle the globe without money, weapons, or baggage.' 

"It was my original intention," says 
the author of "A Vagabond Journey 
Around the World," "to attempt the jour- 
ney without money, without weapons, and 
without carrying baggage or supplies; to 
depend both for protection and the 
necessities of life on personal endeavor 
and the native resources of each locality. 
That plan I altered in one particular : 
I decided to carry a kodak ; and, to obviate 
the necessity of earning en route what I 
might choose to squander in photography, 
I set out with a sum that seemed suffi- 

cient to cover that extraneous expense, 
to be exact : with one hundred and four 

"As was to be expected, I spent this 
reserve fund early, in those countries of 
northern Europe in which I had not 
planned an extensive stay. But the con- 
ditions of the self-imposed test were not 
thereby materially altered; for before the 
journey ended I had spent in photography, 
from my earnings, more than the original 
amount, — to be exact again : one hundred 
and thirteen dollars. ' 

How Harry A. 
Franck Earned 
his Way on his 
Vagabond Jour- 
ney Around the 

Detroit to Glasgow 

Tending cattle 

Stevedore and odd 

Marseilles to Port Said 


Port Said 

Pounding: beans 

Interpreter, scribe, and 



Errand boy and manual 


Port Said to Ceylon 


Circus clown and tally 



Street-car inspector 

Tennis club fag 

General laborer 
Maulmein, Burma 

Genera] laborer 
HongKongto Shanghai 


General laborer 
Yokohama to United 


Concrete shoveler 
•Montana to Chicago 

Tending cattle 

Royal Svo, over 500 pp. $3.50 net; postage, 23 cents. 

By the Author of "The Lady of the Decoration" 



Dainty and delightful as the cherry-blossoms of her father's garden, "Little 
Sister Snow" radiates the same cheer of buoyant life, and the happy laughter of 
spring and youth. 

Twelve full-page pictures, reproducing in full color twelve water-colors by the 
Japanese artist, G-enjiro Kataoka, give the volume rare and distinctive beauty. 

Don't miss knowing "Little Sister Snow." 

$1.00 net; postage, 7 cents. 






$)(H Instant 


A New Edition 


of Gelatine Cookery 

is now ready. A complimentary copy will 
be mailed post free upon receipt of your 
name and address. Send for it. This 
manual contains more than 200 recipes for 
dainty and delicious desserts, savories, 
salads, puddings, invalids' dishes, etc. 
They have been prepared by an expert in 
cookery who thoroughly understands the 
innumerable ways in which this superior 
gelatine may be used. 

Cox's Gelatine dissolves instantly in 
boiling water — requires no waiting, no 


4 to 6 persons. }4 oz. (1 heaping tablespoonful) Cox's 
Instant Powdered Gelatine, % pint (1 cup) boiling water, 
juice ]4 lemon, 6 ozs. (i/± cup) sugar, y± pint (\% cups) 
mashed strawberries, some seasonable fruits. 

Dissolve the Gelatine in half a cupful of the boiling 
water, add lemon-juice, sugar dissolved in remainder of 
hot water and strawberries rubbed through a sieve. Turn 
into a wet ring mold and allow 
to become firm. Turn out 
when set and fill with a mixture 
of seasonable fruits, such as 
, '"STMrf *-""' ~ I s '' ce d oranges, bananas, cher- 

Gel^-S^Eaed I I I r ' es > an d pineapples, sweet- 

ened with sugar to taste. Serve 
very cold. 

Sold everywhere in red, white 
and blue checkerboard boxes. 


(U. S. Distributors for J. & G. Cox, Ltd.) 
Edinburgh, Scotland. 

Dept. F, 

100 Hudson Street, New York. 


An Everyday 


Reader, you 

may not know 

of your real — 

everyday need for 

Thermos — but it 

is a real need 

that can be 

supplied in no 

other way. 

Thermos keeps 

liquids — and solids 

— hot — without fire — 

and cold — without ice 

— for hours and days — until 

ready for use. 

Simply a proven 


In the nurs- 
ery — baby's 
milk can be 
kept .pure and 
sweet at just 
the temperature 
your i n f a n t 
demands — with 

In the sick-room any liquid or solid 
prescribed or desired can be kept hot 
or cold for hours without trouble or 
loss of time. 

For Automobilists, Yachts- 
men or Sportsmen. On any 
■vacation or outing Thermos 
gives comforts that can be ob- 
tained in no other way. 

For father, mother, grandma, 
son or daughter, athlete or invalid, 
there are daily iiecds for Thermos. 
But please be cautious. Look for 
tile name Thermos on the bottom 
of every genuine article. 

American Thermos 
Bottle Company 

Thermos Building 

243-247 West 17th St. 

llllllfllJlllu! < I illliiliiiiiiinliil 


By the Author of "KINGSFORD, QUARTER" 

Now running in St. Nicholas 


By Ralph Henry Barbour 

"Ralph Henry Barbour puts action into his stories, and that is what a healthy boy likes" 
"Mr. Barbour lets none of the fun escape in the telling" 


Twenty-four full-page illustrations by C. M. Relyea. 
400 pages. Price, $1.50. 


The sales of the ear- 
lier books of this pop- 
ular "Crimson Sweat- 
er" series have estab- 
lished the fact that 
Ralph Henry Barbour 
is one of the most 
popular writers of the 
day for young people. 
Wholesomeness is al- 
ways the keynote of 
his stories; and work 
and play and innocent 
fun are mixed in lib- 
eral proportions. 

This is the fourth, and 
just about the best, of the 
wholesome series, carrying 
on the fun and adventure of Tom 
and Dick and Harriet and Roy, the happy 


Twenty pictures by Relyea. $1.50. 
The same happy quartet found fun another 
summer on an island in the Hudson which 
Harry's father gave her for a birthday gift. 
The boys camped there; and Harry (,who is a 
girl) came over to join them every day; and a 
stray artist and a wandering genius came along; 
and the days were very full and jolly; and Mr. 
Barbour tells about it as if he were one of the 

quartet whose doings 
thousands of girls and 
boys have followed 
through the pages of 
"The Crimson Sweat- 
er," "Tom, Dick, and 
Harriet," and "Har- 
ry's Island." In "Cap- 
tain Chub" the boys 
rent a house-boat for 
the summer, and with 
Harriet and her father 
for guests cruise up 
and down the Hudson, 
stopping on shore for all 
sorts of adventures, getting 
mixed up with a robbery 
and a camp of gipsies, and 
having just the sort of healthy 
that young folks enjoy. 


Sixteen pictures by Relyea. $,1.50. 
"Tom, Dick, and Harriet" is a book full of 
"ginger"; and the account of the game be- 
tween Ferry Hill and Hammond, which wins 
Ferry Hill its much needed endowment, is tense 
with interest. It is a healthful, happy book 
which girls and boys will enjoy equally. "Full 
of action from cover to cover, and that, too, of 
a thoroughly wholesome kind." 


Twenty-eight pictures by Relyea. Price, $1.50. 
"A book that will go straight to the heart of every boy and of every lover of a jolly good foot- 
ball tale." Roy, the chief character, is a manly, bright lad, more interested in foot-ball than in 
algebra; but stanch in his ideas of right and fair play, whatever he is doing; and the story of 
"the school's" adventures and misadventures is of wholesome interest. 

The Century Co. 

Union Square 

New York 



Try the trail 
Grand Canyon 

of Arizona 

this Summer 

Climb the Rockies in 
Colorado, see lovely 
Yosemite, and bathe in 
the blue Pacific Ocean. 

These are vacation attractions 
offered by the Santa Fe. 
Low-fare round-trip sum- 
mer excursions through 
the Southwest Land of 

Let us send you our three summer folders: 
"A Colorado Summer," "Titan of 
Chasms — Grand Canyon," and 
"California Summer Excursions." 

W. J. Black, 
Pass. Traffic 
1072 Railway 





If you really want to know 
some delightful new summer desserts — 
send for the book. It tells about Charlottes, 
Custards and Creams made with 

KingsforcTs Com Starch 

to blend with sweet and acid fruits and berries. 
Also fruit tarts and berry pies — excellent rules 
for strawberry short-cake and dainty cakes for 
summer evening tea. 

The best cooks in the land have contributed 
their pet recipes. 

The book is free. Send your name 

on a post card for Cook Book "H.H."- 

What a Cook Ought to Know about 

Corn Starch "—168 of the best recipes 

you ever tried. 


Oswego, N. Y. 


Grand Trunk Railway System 

f 7T\ost Direct Route to the Highlands of Ontario" 

Orillia and Couchiching, Muskoka Lakes, Lake of Bays, Manganetewan River, Algonquin National Park, Temagami, Georgian Bay. 

Plan to Spend Your Summer Holidays This 
Year at One of These Delightful Spots 

Good hotel accomodations at moderate cost — The lover of outdoors will find here in abundance, all 
those things which make roughing it desirable. Select the locality that will afford you the greatest 
amount of enjoyment, send for free map folders, beautifully illustrated, fully describing these out of 
the ordinary recreation resorts. Address — 

W. S. Cookson F. P. Dwyer E. H. Boynton W. Robinson 

917 Merchants Loan and Trust Co., Chicago 290 Broadway, New York City 256 Washington St, Boston fc 506 Park Bldg., Pittsburg 


Pass. Traffic Manager, Montreal Asst. Pass. Traffic Manager, Montreal 


Wff 'Lam- Home 0/ 'S peckled 7hw£ 


'That is one candy we can eat 
all we want of. Mother says it 
is as good for us as bread and 
butter, and makes us healthy.' 

Lamont, Corliss & Co., Sole Agents, New York "f 



One thing very much in favor of the chamois gloves which are so 
popular nowadays, is that they are easily cleaned. 

Make a strong suds of Ivory Soap and tepid water. Put the gloves 
on your hands and proceed, just as you would if you were washing 
your hands. Rub the soiled parts, especially the finger tips, with a 
sponge or wash-cloth. Let the gloves dry on the hands. If that is too 
much trouble, hang them up to dry in a closet or a dark room. 

Silk and lisle gloves are. as easily cleaned as chamois gloves; and 
the method is the same. 

The cleaning of gloves is only one of scores of uses for which 
Ivory Soap is better adapted than any other soap. And the reason 
is this: Ivory Soap is pure. // cleans but it does not injure. • 

Ivory Soap , . 99 4 2^oo Per Cent. Pure. 


JULY, 1910 j 








Copyright, 1910, by The Century Co.] (Trade-Mark Registered Feb. 6, 1907.) [Entered at N Y. Post Office as Second Class Mail Matter. 

Swift & Company; u.s. A . 




mt do the rurtiahs sjbt q 
Well, what j# they say • 

A wireless message has at last been received by an 
airship f lying' far above the clouds. There is no doubt 
whatever but that it was sent from Mars. The mes- 
sage is £iven below for the first time. RE/O IT. 

"tw. "tt/mxA, ! \|*U' «-OLrvb TTjafc "0*4 U^CttvoAjCfc a. vviaxcJw*\±> . 

0^ Avenrv umJLfct ow "t+u- urrxfcDi, . frtk, lAxfc u,ct\jl ftxXAXJ/ "Kdt 

£■£* >*)M cWx* ! >fc ^^t ^ ^ 

£ ua -wovJ* UafrMfc&Mi 

Ja*jvu crvui. crjL ulxtvc 




Note to St. Nicholas Readers— The above advertisement was designed and submitted by Master Frank MacDonald. 
Sleeper, 15 Colby Street, Wellesley, Mass. This lad o£ fifteen has shown remarkable originality and skill in working up a 
novel and up-to-date idea. 

July 1910 I 




Washburn-Crosby Co., Largest Millers in the World, General Offices, Minneapolis, Minn. 

[The entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission. ] 


Frontispiece. " Then, Between the Two Soldiers, Tom Proudly 

Marched with the Colors of His Own Dear Land." Page 

Drawn by Armand Both. 

Caesar's Captain. Story Capt. Harold Hammond.u.s.A. 771 

Illustrated by Mayo Bunker. 

The Sewing Doll. Verse Amelia De Wolffers 779 

Illustrated from a Photograph. 

The League of the Signet-Ring. Serial Story Mary Constance Du Bols .... 780 

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 

Some Ugly Little Imps. Verse Pauline Frances Camp 786 

Boarding for Birds. Picture 7$7 

Drawn by E. G. Lutz. 

Firecrackers. Sketch Erlck Pomeroy 788 

Illustrated from Photographs. 

An Independence Day Reception. (More " Betty" Stories.) Carolyn Wells 793 

Illustrated by Reginald Birch. • 

Multiplication. Verse Sarah K. Smith 800 

Illustrated by the Author. 

The Haunted Station. ("The Young Railroaders" Series.) F. LoveU Coombs 801 

Illustrated by F. B. Masters. 

A Queer Pony-Cart. Story 805 

Illustrated from a Photograph. 

The Young Wizard of Morocco. Serial Story Bradley Gilman 806 

Illustrated by George Varian. 

Molly and Polly. Verse P. V. Strunz 812 

Illustrated by the Author. 

A Jingle. "Salting Birdie's Tail" Deborah Ege Olds 812 

The Refugee. Serial Story Captain Charles Gilson 813 

Illustrated by Arthur Becher. 

A Race in Elfin-Land. Picture 820 

Drawn by L. N. Umbstaetter. 

Kingsford, Quarter. Serial Story Ralph Henry Barboiu 820 

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 

Reason or Instinct ? Verse Nixon Waterman 827 

The Brownies and the Pure Milk Supply Palmer Cox 828 

Illustrated by the Author. 

How Tom Whitney Astonished the German Army. Story E. s. p. Llpsett 832 

Illustrated by Armand Both. 

An Unfinished Symphony. Verse C. H. Claudy 834 

Illustrated from Photographs. 

Two Brave Boys. Story Rebecca Harding Davis 835 

Base-Ball, After School, in Japan. Picture 835 

Drawn by Genjiro Kataoka (Yeto). 

Listen to the Rain. Verse Isabel Ecclestone Mackay 836 

The Dolls' Theatre. Verse Patten Beard 836 

Illustrated from a Photograph. 

Our Troubles. Verse Isabel Lyndall 837 

Illustrated by the Author. 

Books and Reading Hlidegarde Hawthorne 838 

Nature and Science for Young Folks 840 


More Leaves from the Journey Book 848 

Drawn by De Witt Clinton Falls. 
The St. Nicholas League. Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems, 

Drawings, and Photographs. Illustrated 852 

The Emergency Corner : Charlotte Brewster Jordan 860 

The Letter-Box : 862 

The Riddle-Box 863 

The Century Co. and its editors receive manuscripts and art material, submitted for publica- 
tion, only on the unde?standing that they shall not be responsible for loss or injury thereto 
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2 <* 

. i :; ^icayMjR,. 

Every One Gets Hungry on the Water 

Take along 


Convenient : : Nourishing : : Digestible 
Peter's is the best for travelers on land or sea 

Lamont, Corliss & Co., New York 







JULY, 1910 

No. 9 



Author of " Pinkey Perkins: Just a Boy," etc. 

The incident told herein actually occurred at Siboney, Cuba, in July, 1898, and came under my personal observation. 

incidents have, of course, been altered to suit the requirements. 

Names and minor 

The long troop-train had pulled in on the siding 
at Hillsboro, North Carolina, to wait for the 
north-bound limited, which had the right of way. 
The soldiers were out on the tracks, stretching 
their legs after their long ride. With the excep- 
tion of an hour at Jersey City and a half-hour on 
the outskirts of Washington, they had been sitting 
cramped in the train for twenty-four hours. 
Troops en route to the Spanish War in '98 did 
not ride in Pullmans and have warm meals served 
them. They rode in day-coaches and ate the 
travel ration straight. 

A crowd of open-eyed, open-mouthed specta- 
tors had gathered at the station "to see the sol- 
diers." Never before had Hillsboro seen such 
activity as was displayed by young and old, black 
and white, in getting to the station. 

"Don't know what I '11 do without a 'lid' when 
we get to Tampa," a bareheaded soldier was say- 
ing; "lost mine out o' the car window last night. 
I asked for a new one this morning, but it '11 be 
two weeks before we get another issue of clothing." 

"We '11 be in Cuba in two weeks," spoke up 
another, "and by that time you '11 either need a 
hat terribly— or not at all." 

Among the interested listeners to this conversa- 
tion was a little negro urchin. To him soldiers 

Copyright, 1910, by The Cent 

had heretofore been but vague, unreal beings of 
another world, and here was one in need of so 
commonplace a thing as a hat ! 

Suddenly Caesar, for such was his name, be- 
thought himself of the ten-cent piece he had 
earned the day before, picking strawberries. It 
was the first money he had ever possessed, and 
for twenty-four hours he had looked upon him- 
self as a capitalist. Now was his chance to do a 
service for the blue-shirted god without a hat. 

A minute later he rushed breathlessly into a 
near-by store and demanded : "Gimme a dime 
straw hat !" 

"What size ?" asked the storekeeper, astonished 
that any one in Hillsboro should exert such 

"Big enough for a sojer, — I 'se in a hurry, too, 
Massa Phillips," added Caesar, endeavoring to 
impress the slow-moving merchant with the im- 
portance of his purchase. 

The storekeeper tossed him a wide-brimmed 
straw hat from the shelf, and in another moment 
Caesar was tearing madly stationward. Just as 
he reached the platform, the north-bound express 
rushed past, the engine of the special gave two 
warning toots, and the long train slowly started 

ury Co. All rights reserved. 




As Caesar reached the train, he saw his bare- 
headed idol disappear inside one of the coaches. 
Regardless of the fact that the train was mov- 
ing, Caesar clambered aboard and rushed into the 
car, proudly bearing the new straw hat. Bravely 
approaching the soldier, he accosted him with, 
"Here 's a hat for you, Mistah Sojer," and thrust 
his recent purchase into the soldier's hands. 

"For me!" gasped the astonished soldier. 

"Yassir," spoke up Caesar, proud of the interest 
already aroused by his excited entrance and his 
impetuous contribution to the army uniform, 
"yassir. I heard you say dat you did n't have 
none, so I bought dis 'un and brung it to you." 

"I say, kid, you 're a regular trump," said the 
hatless one, for want of a more elegant ex- 
pression of thanks. 

"I think you 'd better skip off, or you '11 never 
get back," spoke up the sergeant in charge of the 
car, thoughtful of his own responsibility as well 
as Caesar's welfare. 

"I do' wan' to git off; want to go to Cuby, too," 
declared Caesar, impelled by a sudden desire to 
remain with his new acquaintances. Further 
questioning brought out the fact that he was his 
own master and in leaving Hillsboro was break- 
ing no family ties. So Caesar was accordingly, 
then and there, adopted into H troop as its "mas- 
cot," by a unanimous vote of the men, with the 
captain yet to be heard from. 

But Captain Sharpe knew well how small a 
thing can make or mar a soldier's content, and if 
the presence of a "little piccaninny" would lighten 
the tedious journey, he assured the first sergeant 
that he had no objection whatever. 

And so it came to pass that when the train 
drew into Tampa on that hot, dusty May morning, 
and the regiment formed and marched to their 
camp at Tampa Heights, Caesar was as proud as 
a turkey-cock as he strutted along in the file- 
closers, carrying the "captun's" kit, the envy of 
every youthful eye along the line of march. The 
recipient of Caesar's gift, "Straw Hat" he had 
been dubbed in the troop, thankfully wore the 
piece of conspicuous head-gear as a shield from 
the pelting rays of the sun. 

During the five weeks the regiment was en- 
camped at Tampa Heights, Caesar came to be 
looked upon as a member of the troop. He had 
his own mess-kit and lined up with the others, 
meat-can and tin cup in hand, at the cook's wel- 
come call, "Come and get it !" 

Instead of tolerating him as an indulgence to 
his troop, as he had at first. Captain Sharpe soon 
found Caesar to be a most efficient "striker," 
which is the name for a soldier detailed to act as 
an officer's servant. 

Long before moving orders came, stringent 
orders were issued by the corps commander and 
all the subordinate commanders against the em- 
barkation on the transports of any "unauthorized 
non-combatants." Under this head were included 
"all camp-followers, servants, and civilians not 
provided with the proper credentials." So Caesar 
was clearly barred out. Nevertheless, his deter- 
mination to "go to Cuby" was unalterably fixed. 
When Captain Sharpe told him he would have 
to remain at Tampa when the regiment left, 
his only reply was a sober look and a soberer 

One night in the second week of June, just 
after the last faint notes of "taps" had faded into 
the darkness beyond the Twenty-second's camp, 
an aide galloped up to the main guard-tent, was 
advanced and recognized by the corporal of the 
guard, and passed on to the colonel's tent, as that 
dignitary was preparing for his cot. In another 
minute he was outside in his stocking feet, calling, 
"Orderly ! Orderly ! ! Sound officers' call." 

Instantly the clear, metallic notes rang through 
the pines, breaking the stillness by their ominous 
repetition. Candle-lights sprang into life up and 
down "officers' row." Hastily clad figures 
emerged from the tents. By twos and threes the 
group around the colonel's tent was rapidly 
swelled. Suppressed excitement was in the air. 
New expressions on familiar faces told in the 
flickering candle-light that something, of which 
no one knew the end, had at last begun. 

"Gentlemen," said the colonel, quietly, "our or- 
ders have come at last. The expedition will sail 
at daylight to-morrow. We are to proceed to 
Port Tampa at once and go aboard the transport. 
The Santiago, No. 2, has been assigned to us. I 
know it is a big undertaking we have before us, 
but I depend on every man to do his best to get 
aboard in time." Then, with a few' detailed in- 
structions, the officers were dismissed. 

Caesar, while rolling the captain's bedding, kept 
two alert ears open and laid out his own plan of 
procedure, independent of that of the regiment. 
He picked up a few very important remarks : 
"Santiago," "Transport No. 2," "Number painted 
on the smoke-stack," "Take the train at Ybor 
City" ("Eyebrow City" the soldiers called it). 

These bits of information made it possible for 
him to act independently and intelligently. 

"Anything mo' to be done, Captun?" inquired 
Caesar after he had placed the freshly filled can- 
teen on top of the pile containing bedding, poncho, 
and sword. 

"No, Caesar, I believe that 's all," replied Cap- 
tain Sharpe, who was standing by, watching the 
hurried preparations for embarkation, "and, 




Caesar, I think we '11 have to part company now. 
I 'm sorry you can't go, but it 's best for you not 
to. Boys like you are very useful in camp, but 
I 'm afraid you 'd be a little in the wav in the 
field. Here 's enough money to get you back 
home again and to have something left. And you 
can tell everybody I said you are a good boy." 
"Thank you, Captun," replied Caesar. Then he 

Dent, savagely eying a sailor who held him 
tightly by the arm. 

"Where did you say you found him, my man ?" 
inquired the general. 

"In the after-hold, sir, while I was gettin' out 
some winds'ls, sir," replied the sailor. 

Caesar was immediately recognized by the offi- 
cers, who were attracted by the unusual sight of 


added : "Yassir, I 'specks I would n't be no good 
in Cuby. So good-by, Captun," and he disap- 
peared in the darkness. 

Days passed. The regiment had embarked, not 
by daylight, but about noon. Instead of sailing 
at daylight, the whole expedition lay in Tampa 
Bay, delayed by rumors of a Spanish fleet lying 
outside to sink the almost defenseless transports 
in case they ventured out. All these rumors, 
however, proved false, and the expedition finally 
moved out to sea, formed in three long columns, 
and steamed majestically southward. 

Two days later, on the quarter-deck of the San- 
tiago, a ragged little darky stood before General 

general, sailor, and negro in conversation. He 
admitted having stowed himself away the night 
before the expedition sailed, giving his reason 
that he wanted "to go to Cuby 'long with de cap- 
tun and de H troop." And there being nothing 
to do now but to allow him to remain on board. 
Caesar was once more with his troop, happy and 
contented, and disembarked with them and went 
into camp at Daiquiri. Thus it was that Caesar 
was with the troop on that memorable day, July I, 
1898, one that marked changes in so many lives, 
one of which was his own. 

When the regiment moved toward the Spanish 
lines that morning, Captain Sharpe said : "Caesar, 



I want you to stay with the cooks and look out 
for my bedding roll, and see that it comes up with 
the kitchen outfit when we send back for it." 

"Yassir, Captun, I '11 take care of it till you 
want it," replied Caesar, proud of his responsi- 

Before long the crash of small arms and the 
boom of artillery began, and sullenly and dog- 
gedly came the reply from the Spanish trenches. 
Caesar's heart grew sick at the sight of wounded 
men wearily walking or being helplessly carried 
by their comrades to the field-hospital farther 
back. He thought of Captain Sharpe. What if 
he were among that number ! What if he were 
killed ! ! The thought kept coming back to him 
so persistently that toward evening he could re- 
main quiet no longer. He went out to the road, 
resolved to learn, if possible, something from the 

Almost the first person he saw was the troop 
trumpeter, with a shattered arm in an improvised 
sling, being carried to the hospital. In response 
to Caesar's inquiry he said that Captain Sharpe 
was badly wounded. "I was with him," he said, 
"when he was hit, and stayed with him till some 
'sniper' put me out of business. He was hit in 
the head, but the doctors don't half know him. 
They took him off in an ambulance just after I 
was shot." 

That was too much for Caesar. He fairly flew 
back to where the cooks were. Hastily filling his 
canteen with water and his shirt pocket with 
hardtack, he called to Dorsch, the cook : "Captun 
Sharpe 's been hit, and I 'm going to find him. 
You look out for all dis plunder." And he was 

By inquiry along the road, Caesar learned that 
the field-hospital was about a mile and a half 
farther back, and thither he went, walking and 
running at his best speed, arriving very much 
excited and totally out of breath. Here he was 
informed by an attendant that Captain Sharpe's 
wound had been dressed and that he had been 
sent on to the coast with several others whose 
wounds required more careful attention than 
could be given in a field-hospital. 

Heedless of everything save his desire to find 
his "captun," he pushed on down the trail toward 
the coast. Night came on, and he feared losing 
his way; but he kept on until forced by uncer- 
tainty to stop and wait until daylight came. He 
found shelter in an old deserted cabin, and there 
he rested his weary body, sleeping until the bright 
sunlight awoke him. On reaching Siboney, he at 
once began a search of the hospitals. He inquired 
respectfully of several attendants for information 
concerning Captain Sharpe, but got no satisfac- 

tion. His appearance was not such as to demand 
serious attention, and all were too busy to listen 
to him. 

Caesar did not know, nor did any one tell him, 
of the Red Cross hospital, situated in a small 
dwelling near the beach, and his search did not 
extend that far. 

That afternoon, as Caesar was endeavoring to 
convince a commissary clerk that he belonged to 
the army, and was entitled to the privilege of 
purchasing a can of sardines, he saw an Amer- 
ican woman, wearing a red cross on her left arm, 
pass the door. Forgetting his hunger, he ran on, 
resolved to follow her, hoping he might get a 
clue to Captain Sharpe's whereabouts. Keeping 
at a respectful distance, he followed her until she 
ascended the steps leading up to a porch, above 
which floated a small hospital flag, and saw her 
disappear in the doorway. As he drew near, he 
saw men lying in cots on the narrow porch, and 
another lady, dressed similarly to the one he had 
followed, sitting on a box near by. Approaching 
the porch and receiving a kindly glance, owing to 
his blue shirt and campaign hat, he inquired in a 
low voice of the lady if she knew where he would 
find Captain Sharpe, who was wounded. Scarcely 
had he repeated his question, explaining who he 
was, when a familiar voice called from the porch : 

"That you, Caesar?" 

Caesar's heart gave a great bound. At last he 
had found his "captun." 

"Yassir!" cried Caesar, eagerly. "Dat you, 
Captun ? Kin I come up ?" 

"Yes, I think Sister Anna won't mind," replied 
the captain, and a moment later the devoted little 
darky stood by his master's cot. 

"I can't see you, Caesar," said Captain Sharpe; 
"I was wounded in the head and have lost one of 
my eyes, and the doctor is afraid I 'm going to 
lose the other. He says the only thing that could 
save it is ice, and there is none here, and there 
will be none for several days, when the supply- 
ship comes back." 

Here he paused, surprised that he should enter 
into so long an account of his misfortune to 
Caesar. But it seemed to him, lying there in total 
darkness as he was, that Caesar's presence took 
him back to his home land and that it was not to 
Caesar alone he was speaking. 

"Can't I do nuthin' for you, Captun?" said 
Caesar, moved by the helplessness of his once vig- 
orous and handsome idol. 

"No, Caesar, I 'm afraid not. I get all the care 
I could possibly need. Sister Anna keeps the 
water for the bandages cool by hanging the can- 
teens in the breeze. She does all any one could 
do without ice." 







Again he was encouraging those he had left 
behind by being brave before Caesar. 

"Well, good-by, Captun," said Caesar, catching 
a signal from the eye of the attentive Sister 
Anna; "I '11 come and see you again to-morrow." 

His nurse knew better than Captain Sharpe 
how much he would need the strength he was talk- 
ing away to Caesar. 

"Good-by, Caesar; come again," said Captain 
Sharpe, weakly. "Come again to-morrow," and 
Caesar disappeared down the beach. 



That night, just as the bells on the transports 
were announcing, in variegated tones, the hour of 
midnight, Sister Anna was awakened from a light 
sleep into which she had fallen after changing 
the bandages on Captain Sharpe's eyes. She was 
sitting on the steps in the cool air, enjoying the 
moonless tropical night, when she fell asleep. 

She started up and listened. Again she heard 
the noise that had aroused her, a low "s-s-s-t." 
She looked down beside the. porch, into the dark 
shadow cast by a swinging lantern, and barely 
was able to recognize as her strange nocturnal 
visitor, Caesar. 

She beckoned to him, and he stealthily ap- 
proached. From under his arm he cautiously 
produced a bundle, something wrapped in a piece 
of burlap, and thrust it into her hands. Before 
she could speak, he had taken to his heels and 
had disappeared in the dark- 
ness. To her utter amazement 
she found that the burlap con- 
tained a piece of ice about the 
size of one's head. 

It was more wonderful than 
an answered prayer, so impos- 
sible had it been to get ice — it 
was a miracle. Had it not 
been for the unmistakable sen- 
sation of cold that made this 
godsend a reality, how long 
Sister Anna would have sat 
and marveled at this strange 
visitation, it is hard to say. 
But being a thoughtful nurse 
and a practical one, she real- 
ized that the thing to do was 
to act now and wonder after- 

Passing through the hall, 
she encountered Sister Angela, 
and as they cracked a small 
portion of the precious gift, 
enough to make two com- 
presses, and as she carefully 
wrapped up the remainder, she 
told of the strange visit of the 
little negro. 

"/ can't understand it," said 
Sister Angela ; "there is n't a 
speck of ice on any of the 
transports. Even Miss Barton 
herself tried all day yesterday 
and to-day to get ice, and 
there was none to be had for 
love or money." She was as 
much at a loss to account for 
it all as was Sister Anna. 
When Captain Sharpe was awakened by the sen- 
sation of an ice compress being placed on each eye, 
he feared he was dreaming. It could not be true. 
"God bless the boy, he has saved my sight!" he 
said huskily, when Sister Anna told him of 
Caesar's midnight visit. "And to think I ever told 
him he 'd be in the way." 




When the surgeon came in the morning, he 
found a great improvement in Captain Sharpe's 
condition, but the source of the ice was as much 
a mystery to him as to all the others. 

"Well, Captain, wherever he got it, he has 
saved your eye. I hated to tell you, but when 
I left here last night, I felt that you would never 
see daylight again ; but now, if we can find out 
where he got that ice and get more to last until 
the Texas gets back, you '11 have one good eye 

All day long Sister Anna kept a sharp lookout 
for Caesar; but he did not appear, and when 
night came and the piece of ice had been reduced 
to a nugget, more precious than so much gold, 
she began to despair. She feared she would have 
to resort to cool water again, and shuddered at 
the thought at such a critical time. When she 
came on duty again at twelve, the last of the ice 
had been cracked and placed on the fevered eyes. 
Sadly she filled the canteens, soaked the covers, 
and hung them up. Then she went inside to at- 
tend to the various wants of the fever patients, 
who crowded the little house to its utmost ca- 

Suddenly the stillness was broken by the un- 
mistakable sound of a rifle-shot far down the 
beach, followed in a few seconds by another. 
Then all was still again. Going to the door, she 
looked out, but the sky was overcast, and she 
could see nothing. After listening a few mo- 
ments, she heard the sound of voices approaching 
from the direction in which she had heard the 
shots. Then she made out three figures approach- 
ing. As they came in range of the rays of the 
lantern, swinging from the corner of the porch, 
she could distinguish two soldiers, supporting be- 
tween them the limp figure of Caesar, dripping 

As they reached the porch, Caesar sank to the 
ground, and a package he had been clutching in 
his arms fell to the ground. 

While carrying Caesar up the steps and assist- 
ing in making him comfortable, and Sister Anna 
was procuring blankets and bandages, one of the 
soldiers, a corporal, explained the circumstances 
of the accident as far as he knew them : 

"The sentinel on No. 2 post saw some one on 
the beach about fifty yards away, and called for 
him to halt. Instead of halting, he turned and 
ran in the other direction, when, according to his 
standing orders in such cases, the sentinel fired, 
then called the corporal of the guard, and when 
I came he told why he had fired and that he had 
fired low. I called Davis here, and he and I ran 
up the beach and found the little fellow lying 
there with a nasty hole in his leg. But he was 

game and never uttered a groan. He could give 
no explanation about where he had been and 
would only say that he was taking some ice to the 
hospital for Captain Sharpe. Knowing that officer 
was here, I brought the boy here, too. He kept 
up till we got clear here, but now he seems to 
have gone under." 

Upon examination Caesar's wound was found 
to be not really serious, although it was very 


painful. He regained consciousness while his 
limb was being dressed and was soon resting 
quite comfortably. 

The precious ice, which came so near costing 
a life, was found in a small piece of canvas, where 
Caesar had dropped it at the porch. 

Captain Sharpe had been aroused by the un- 
usual activity, but on being told that it was only 
a patient's wound being dressed, he inquired no 
further. Not knowing that the first piece of ice 
had been completely exhausted, he did not know 
at what cost his new lease on hope had been se- 

Great as was her curiosity, Sister Anna decided 
not to worry Caesar with questions at present, 
and by the aid of an opiate he was soon asleep. 

The two soldiers, after assuring Sister Anna 
that no possible blame could be attached to the 
sentinel, who was merely carrying out his orders, 
and expressing their regret at the unfortunate oc- 



cnrrence, soon returned to their duty at the guard- 

When morning came, and Sister Anna told 
Captain Sharpe the whole story of the midnight 
tragedy, he was visibly affected by the unfortu- 
nate outcome of Caesar's devotion. Sister Anna 
preferred to have him question Caesar about the 
source of the ice. She felt that he could induce 
the boy to clear up the mystery better than any 
one else. A cot was procured for the boy, and 
he felt more than repaid for everything when it 
was placed alongside that of his hero. It did not 
once occur to Caesar that he was the hero. 

"And now, Caesar," said Captain Sharpe, "I 
want you to tell me where you got those pieces 
of ice. Since you are wounded, some one else 
will have to get it for us." 

'"Well, sir, Captun," said Caesar, "I stole it of'n 
de Tree Friends. I know it 's wrong to steal, 
and I never done it befo', but dis time it j is' 
seemed to make me feel good." 

Further questioning brought out the facts that 
two evenings previous Caesar had seen the de- 
spatch-boat of the Associated Press, the Three 
Friends, enter the harbor about dusk and several 
of those on board come ashore. Fearing he would 
•be refused himself and not desiring to share with 
any one the honor of procuring ice, in case there 
was any on board, he resolved to first try and 
obtain it unassisted. 

He waited until it was quite late, then he swam 
out to the yacht, which lay but a short distance 
offshore, stealthily crept up the gangway, and 
made his way aft. To his delight, he saw a 
refrigerator standing near the companionway. 
Raising the lid, he peered in, and there he saw 
two pieces of ice surrounded by various bottles. 

He removed the bottles from around the larger 
piece, and, after taking the ice out, replaced them. 
Then lowering himself over the rail into the 
water, he swam ashore. 

The following night he waited until near mid- 
night before he saw the boat return from her 
daily trip to the cable office at Kingston, ninety 
miles away to the south. Again he stealthily 
boarded the despatch-boat, and for want of any 
suitable covering for the lone piece of ice that he 
found this time, he cut from a deck-chair the 
canvas in which Sister Anna found it wrapped. 

The unfortunate outcome of this second expedi- 
tion has been told. 

Late that afternoon a smoke on the southern 
horizon held the anxious gaze of those who 
watched and waited in that little improvised hos- 
pital. Gradually the large black hull of a steamer 
rose into view, and at dusk the Texas, treasure- 
laden with tons of ice and hospital supplies, 
dropped anchor in the harbor. 

A week later Captain Sharpe and Caesar, both 
gradually improving, were on board the hospital 
ship Relief, homeward bound, and Caesar was the 
hero of all on board. 

A few years ago, at St. Louis, an officer wearing 
the uniform of a brigadier-general in the United 
States army could have been seen in familiar con- 
versation with a tall, soldierly looking lieutenant 
of Filipino scouts, on duty with his company at 
the exposition. 

It was the first meeting of Caesar and his "cap- 
tun" since the latter had induced the President to 
reward Caesar's devotion with a pair of shoulder- 
straps, after four years in college at General 
Sharpe's expense. 



There was a little milkmaid, and 
Her pails were spools of thread; 

A thimble-holder as a hat 
She wore upon her head. 

And there were pins of black and white 

Around the brim stuck in, 
And to her any one could go 

To get a safety-pin. 

Her apron white and dainty was 

A little needle-book ; 
The rod her milk-pail-spools were on 

Was just a crochet-hook. 

And people called this pretty maid 

"Our useful little Poll"; 
She was a help to every one, 
This little "Sewing Doll." 




Chapter VI 


Jean was on her way to Carol's home, and the 
story of their friendship was passing before her 
mind. The first year at school, long before the 
shy, homesick girl had learned to come out of her 
shell, she had idolized from a distance Carol 
Armstrong, the leader and favorite of Hazel- 
hurst. Then came a time when Carol had found 
out that little Jean Lennox needed her love. An 
act of thoughtless unkindness had wounded Jean 
to the quick, and as she sat lonely and miserable 
in her room, Carol had come and comforted her, 
taking the suffering girl right into her warm, ten- 
der heart. From that day they had been "sisters." 

And now it was Jean's mission to comfort 
Carol. But how was she to do it? Trembling, 
she stood at last in the Armstrongs' vestibule. 
When the butler appeared, his gloomy counte- 
nance indicated that his days in that place were 

"Miss Carol 's in the parlor. Will you please 
go into the library and wait for her, Miss Len- 
nox?" said the man. 

Feeling wretchedly out of place, Jean stole off 
to the library and stood by the window, looking 
out absently, trying to still the nervous beating of 
her heart. A quick, light step that she knew well 
made her turn. 

"Why, Little Sister!" The same bright, musi- 
cal voice, full of glad welcome. Jean started for- 
ward, and in a flash Carol, the same cheery, 
warm-hearted Carol, had thrown her arms around 
her in a loving embrace. 

"Dear Little Sister, how sweet of you to come !" 

"Oh, Carol, darling! Mother told me!" Jean 
whispered, her cheek against her friend's. Then 
she looked anxiously at Carol. Yes, a change had 
come. The poor girl was very pale, and the dark 
shadows under her eyes told of sad days and 
wakeful nights ; but she met Jean's troubled gaze 
with a brave smile. 

"Why, Queenie ! What a woebegone expres- 
sion !" Playfully, as if it were Jean who was to 
be consoled, Carol took her face between her 

"Oh, Carol — I heard to-day— and I wanted to 
come — I — oh, I love you so!" It was most un- 
regal, but suddenly Jean felt her lips begin to 
quiver. Then, to her own dismay, she fairly 
burst out sobbing ! All at once she found herself 

beside Carol on the sofa, her head on the com- 
forting shoulder, the sisterly arms around her. 
And there was Carol, as if she had never a trouble 
of her own, laughing cheerily. 

"Deary me ! Deary me ! The Queen of the 
Silver Sword came to comfort the Chief Coun- 
cilor, and now the Chief Councilor has to com- 
fort the Queen !" 

Jean looked up, and, in spite of herself, almost 
laughed through her tears over her own mortify- 
ing conduct. "Oh, Carol ! I did n't mean to be- 
have so disgracefully ! The idea of my boohoo- 
ing like a baby when I came to cheer you up ! 
But — you look so worn out and pale!" 

"Bless your heart, childie, what color would 
you expect me to be ? I 've hardly slept a wink 
for three nights! But that is n't going* to hurt 
me. There now, Queenie dear, don't cry any 
more over your Big Sister. She 's going to 
weather the storm." 

"But it 's so dreadful for you, dear !" said 
Jean, forlornly. "You 've had everything so 
beautiful around you all your life." 

"Then I '11 have some beautiful things to look 
back upon," said Carol. "And, dear me, Jeanie, 
it is n't going to hurt great, strong me one bit to 
be poor ! Not any more than it hurts thousands 
of other girls. It 's my dear father and my 
little mother that I 'm thinking of. They 're the 
ones my heart aches for." Resolutely cheerful 
as she had shown herself, a look of suffering 
came into her face. "You know, dear," she added 
gently, "we must give up our home." 

"This beautiful house?" 

"Yes, and Wyndgarth, too, as soon as we can 
sell it." 

"Then, Carol, you must come and live with 
us !" cried Jean, impetuously. 

"Oh, Jean, darling, I could n't. Mother and 
Father will need me more than ever now. I can 
only leave them to take some position. Father 
has been ill so much lately, you know, I don't 
dare to think what the effect of all this frightful 
strain may be!" The sadness had deepened in 
her face, but suddenly it gave way to an almost 
triumphant look. 

"But, Jean, it is n't all dreadful!" she said 
earnestly. "There 's a bright, good side, too. 
My father has failed, but he has failed honorably. 
Oh, Jean, he 's been so splendid and noble from 
first to last ! I 'm proud to be his daughter. I 've 
loved him dearly all my life, but I love and honor 




him more than ever now ! And is n't it good to 
know that, even if we have to lose everything", 
nobody else will have to suffer ! Father will be 
able to pay all his debts, every one!" 

Jean took her friend's hand in both of hers and 
held it lovingly. "Carolie, you spoke just now 
about taking a position. What did you mean?" 

"I mean I shall have to find some sort of work 
just as soon as I can. Howard and Alan and I 
must be bread-winners for the family. I 'm ready 
to grind away at anything, Jean, — I don't care 
what the work is. A born Jack of all trades like 
me ought to be able to get some position before 
long. I wish I had time to fit myself for teach- 
ing, but I '11 have to be earning now." 

"And you were going abroad to study music !" 
sighed Jean. "Must you give all that up?" 

"Oh, yes, that 's all over with," answered Carol. 
"And good riddance to old Deutschland, I say ! 
I 'm sure a lonely island of a daughter, entirely 
surrounded by brothers, had much better stay 
home and take care of her family. There 's 
Mother calling me ! Yes, Sweetheart Mother, 
I *m coming ! I must go back to the drawing- 
room, Jean. Our lawyer 's there." 

"I must go, anyway," said Jean. "I just came 
in for a minute because I wanted you to know — 
oh, Carolie, I did n't act a bit the way I meant 
to ! Here you are so brave and splendid ! And I 
just cried! I 'm dreadfully ashamed of myself! 
I wanted to— to — " 

"I know what you came to do, and you 've done 
it !" said Carol, kissing her. "You don't know 
what a comfort and help it is, Little Sister." 

Chapter VII 


Dear Douglas : Last Saturday we had our election day, 
and guess who is to be queen this year ! That crazy, ab- 
sent-minded girl, Jean Lennox ! Yes, they elected Cecily 
and Betsy and my wild-headed self all right over again. 
The meeting went off finely, but we missed our dear Chief 
Councilor fearfully. 

Oh, Douglas, my Carol is in worse trouble than ever ! 
Her father is ill again — just what she was afraid would 
happen. They have sold their city house, and are staying 
at Wyndgarth now. But if they can't find an-ybody to buy 
the homestead soon, they will sell it at auction, and all the 
beautiful old furniture and everything ! And what do you 
think Carol is going to do ? Their lawyer has offered her a 
place in his office, and so she is going to grind away all 
summer in a sizzling-hot office down-town. Just think of it! 
A girl who simply adores music and art and everything 
beautiful ! But that is n't the worst. She says she '11 have 
to stay in the city all summer to be near her work. Is n't 
that azvful? She will simply kill herself slaving away in 
blazing New York. 

Oh, fiddle ! There goes the study-hour bell. Well, good- 
by, from your affectionate sister, 

Jean Lennox. 

The answer to this wail came promptly. 

Dear Jean : Glad to get your last letter, just received. 
Hooray for the Queen of the S. S. ! It 's great you 're 
reelected, and Cecily and Betsy too ! It 's awful, the 
trouble the Armstrongs are in. I feel worst of all for 
Carol. I 'm awfully sorry she has to go to work like that. 
Too bad the. order can't hit on some way to get her up 
to Halcyon. I tell you what, Jean, whenever I think how 
she saved my life last summer, and all she did for me, I 
feel as if I could never show her how grateful I am, not if 
I worked all my life for her. Here 's an idea: you won't 
let us fellows into the order, but what do you say to form- 
ing a kind of league to stand by Carol and be on the look- 
out for a chance to help her? Make it a sort of an annex 
to the order. You four S. S. girls who were with her at 
Halcyon invite Jack and me to join, and see if we don't 
make things spin. And if the whole crowd of us can't do 
something worth while for Carol, we might as well sell out. 
I 've got to cram now, so good-by. 

Your affectionate brother, 

Douglas Gordon. 

N. B. I 've thought of a dandy name for the annex. 
You know that ring you found in the buried treasure. 
How do you like calling it "The League of the Signet- 

Douglas had indeed owed Carol a deep debt of 
gratitude since the day when he had nearly lost 
his life on the side of the great bold mountain, 
the Gothics. Struck a fierce blow by the hand of 
the man who hated him, the lad had fallen down 
the slides, those terrible rocks on the Gothics' steep 
incline, and the brave girl had risked her own 
life to descend the cliff and save him. She had 
found him dangerously hurt, and all night on the 
lonely mountain she had tended him, till, in the 
morning, Court Hamilton and his rescue party 
had come to their relief. During the long illness 
that followed Carol had helped to nurse the suf- 
fering boy, and now here was Douglas ready to 
stand by her loyally. 

Jean hurried to her three Halcyon comrades, 
Cecily, Betsy, and Frances. She read the letter 
aloud, and the trio took up the idea with ardor. 

"Good for Douglas! That 's a fine idea!" cried 
Cecily. "Indeed, we ought to sell out if such a 
crowd of us could n't do something!" 
. "And that 's such a splendid name for the 
league!" exclaimed Frances. "Won't it be jolly, 
though, to have the boys in ! See if I don't make 
Jack work hard ! He 's got to come up to time, 
if he 's in a society with me!" 

"We must make Douglas the head of it, be- 
cause he 's the founder," said Jean, "and we '11 
keep it all a profound secret from Carol." 

"Of course!" the others agreed. 

"Well, I 'm going to make Court join, too!" 
said Cecily. "I don't care if he is a high and 
mighty Yale man just ready to graduate! He 
ought to feel flattered that we care to invite him." 

"Of course he ought!" Jean assented. "And 



we must have him. He and Carol are such good 
friends ! Write to Court and Jack to-day, Cece. 
We want to get things started right straight off." 
That afternoon Cecily despatched letters to her 
cousins. Next day brought a telegram addressed 
to Miss Cecily Brook. It said: 

Letter received. Honor highly appreciated. Annex me. 
Van Courti.andt Hamilton. 

Jack's answer arrived, inscribed on a picture 
postal. "Of course I want to belong," wrote 
Hamilton the younger, "but don't make me sec- 
retary. I 'm an N. G. correspondent, you know." 

"I should think he was a 'no good' correspon- 
dent," said Cecily, with scorn. "He 's the laziest 
boy about writing letters ! I 'm going to tell him 
there 's no danger we '11 make him secretary!" 

That a league had been formed in her behalf 
Carol was very far from guessing on the day 
when she said good-by to her horse Hiawatha. 
All night she had been at her post in the sick- 
room, relieving the worn-out mother ; but now 
there was a joyous light in her eyes, for this 
morning her father was noticeably stronger. 

A taste of fresh air and exercise were needed if 
she were to meet all the duties that lay before 
her ; so Carol was in her riding-habit, ready for 
an outing with her beautiful bay — a last one, for 
word had come from the lawyer that a purchaser 
for the horse had been found. Hiawatha greeted 
her with a soft, glad nicker as she entered the 
stable. She led him from his stall and saddled 
and bridled him herself. He turned his head and 
looked at her lovingly as she stroked his glossy 
neck ; and she told him the truth : 

"You 're going to have another home now, 
dear. I don't know where it is. I have n't heard 
yet who wants to buy you, but I hope whoever it 
is will make a pet of you ! I hope you '11 be 
happy ! My beauty, you did n't know your mis- 
tress had been advertising you for sale, did you? 
I feel like a traitor to you ! But I had to do it. 
I need the money so — I must help all I can! I 
love you just the same— you don't know how I 
love you, you pet, you splendid fellow ! Don't 
look at me so— don't ! You 're to be sent to the 
city to-day, Hiawatha, but we '11 have one more 
ride, won't we? Just one more gallop together!" 

Soon they were dashing down the country 
road, the spirited horse and his young rider. 
That was a magnificent gallop, bringing the fresh 
glow back to the girl's cheeks, and sending the 
blood dancing healthfully through her veins. But 
Hiawatha had a watchful mistress, and in a few 
minutes she made him slow down to a walk. 

"Tired, boy? You 're panting! Well, you shall 

have a good rest now. I '11 walk beside you." 
She drew rein and dismounted. "I hope they '11 
be careful of you in your new home and not ride 
you too hard. If I thought they would n't treat 
you kindly, I 'd never let you go! If they dare 
not to appreciate you— but they must love you if 
they have any hearts in them!" 

She led him along the shady road, on each hand 
the bright, tender green of the time when spring 
meets summer. They talked together as they 
went, for Hiawatha could talk, with his soft, ex- 
pressive eyes and restless ears, with noddings of 
his head, turnings of his neck, and all those pretty 
ways by which a horse knows how to nold con- 
verse with his owner. 

"I was going to take you to Halcyon this sum- 
mer, pet," she said. "How you would have loved 
a race with Cyclone ! But we won't think of 
'might have been' on our last holiday together!" 

The roadside was all a-blossom ; the flowering 
dogwood made sprinklings of snow amid the 
green. Carol broke off a white spray or two from 
the nearest tree. "Here, boy, let me put a flower 
in your buttonhole!" And she decked out Hia- 
watha with a great snowy disk of petals at each 
rosette of his brow-band. "There now ! You 
ought to see yourself! You 're enough to make 
a full-blooded Arabian jealous! Yes, that 's 
right ! Bow your thanks politely, but not quite 
so hard— you 're shaking off your decorations ! 
Come along, old fellow ! No, you must n't stop 
to nibble grass ! You rogue, you coaxing thing, 
putting your velvet nose over my shoulder ! 
We 've had beautiful times together, have n't 
we, Hiawatha? And what chums we were all 
last winter ! Come, let 's have a last run to- 
gether !" 

Bridle in hand, the girl ran down the road, her 
horse trotting beside her, till they came to a stone 
wall offering a good place from which 'to mount. 
Lissome and agile, in a twinkling she was back 
in the saddle once more, and on she rode at an 
easy trot, across the bridge, around the turn, then 
slowly homeward by another way, till they came 
in sight of the broad field on the Armstrongs' 

"Now, Hiawatha, let 's take a fence!" A gen- 
tle flick of the crop, and they were off at a gallop, 
heading straight for the field. Lightly, unswerv- 
ingly as a hunting-horse, Hiawatha took the 
fence. For an instant the earth was left behind 
and they were in the air ; the next, the fleet hoofs 
struck the sod, and the horse was carrying his 
mistress across the meadow at top speed. A sec- 
ond fence : he cleared it gallantly, and the leap 
brought them over to the sward skirting the 
homestead garden. 






Hiawatha was in his stall once more ; the last 
sugar-treat was given ; and Carol bade him fare- 
well. "I '11 see you again, pet, when they come 
to take you away," she said, "but we '11 have our 
real good-by now while we 're all alone." She 
patted his shoulder and threw her arms around 
his arching neck. She took the noble head in her 
hands and kissed him. "Good-by, my beauty, my 
own dear old friend! Good-by!" 

She turned away, her eyes so dim that only 
through a mist she saw two visitors entering the 
stable. She went to meet them, and as her vision 
cleared, she recognized Mr. Lennox and Jean. 

"A young lady of my acquaintance is very 
much in need of a good saddle-horse," said Mr. 
Lennox. "So I am anxious to buy your Hia- 
watha for her." 

"I told Daddy he needed a horse, and he said 
/ needed a horse!" Jean burst in eagerly. "So 
he 's going to buy Hiawatha for me! But, Caro- 
lie dear, you must come and ride him whenever 
you can, and you and I '11 own him together. He 
must always be half your horse still." 

It would have been worth the price of two 
horses, Jean's father said afterward, to see Carol's 
delight as she poured out her gratitude. But she 
said : "Little Sister, I want him to be yours alto- 
gether,— really and truly it will make me happier 
if he belongs all to you. Oh, Jean, you '11 love 
him so ! And you don't know what a relief it is 
to know he '11 have such a happy home ! And 
don't you see, he '11 really be in the family still, 
because his new mistress is my sister!" 

So Hiawatha was to be rescued, but the league 
was no nearer to solving the problem of how to 
save Carol. Thirty Hazelhurst girls, including 
Jean's class, were to spend the vacation on the 
shores of Halcyon Lake ; yet the thought of poor 
Carol drudging away in the hot city cast a cloud 
over Jean's pleasure at the prospect of going to 
camp. Five teachers were to chaperon the camp- 
ers, and the most popular of them all was Miss 
Hamersley, the instructor in athletics. The week 
before commencement she told Jean and Cecily 
a piece of news that she had dreaded to break. 

"I 'm afraid a teacher of athletics from some 
other school will have to be found to take charge 
of the boating and swimming lessons," said she. 
"I have had an offer to chaperon some girls who 
are going abroad, and I feel that I ought to ac- 
cept it and give up Halcyon." 

"Oh, how splendid!" cried Jean. 

Miss Hamersley looked at her in astonishment. 
"Why, Jean !" she exclaimed, "are you glad not to 
have me?" 

Penitently Jean embraced her teacher. "Oh, 

Miss Hamersley, dear Miss Hamersley, how 
dreadful of me! But I did n't mean it as it 
sounded— honor bright I did n't ! You 're my 
favorite teacher— indeed you are ! I only meant 
it was splendid, because now we can have Carol ! 
It 's just the thing for her !" 

"Carol Armstrong!" exclaimed Miss Hamer- 
sley. "But I thought she had taken a position." 

"She has n't begun yet, and we want to keep 
her from it if we possibly can. We know she '11 
make herself ill, working down-town in the heat ! 
And she 's just the person to take your place. 
Just think how beautifully 'she can row and 
canoe and swim ! You always said she was an 

"Carol is certainly an expert," Miss Hamersley 
agreed. "But she is so young to be in charge." 

"She 's nineteen — that is n't young!" Jean pro- 
tested. "And she 's simply made for a teacher of 
athletics !" 

"Yes, she 's cool-headed and has presence of 
mind, but nineteen is young, and the question is, 
Will the campers be ready to obey her?" said 
Miss Hamersley. 

"We '11 make them obey her!" Jean declared. 
"All the girls who were here when she was just 
love her. They 'd do anything for her. It 's only 
the little freshies that don't know her, and we '11 
make those infants mind!" 

"Maybe you 've solved the difficulty, Jean," 
said Miss Hamersley. "I '11 speak to Miss Carl- 
ton about it this evening." 

A few days later Carol received an official 
document from Douglas, saying: 

I have the honor to inform you that the position of in- 
structor in athletics in the camp at Halcyon is offered to 
you at the salary which your worthy predecessor enjoyed. 
The L. S. R. earnestly hopes that you will accept this 
offer, as it is convinced that your presence is absolutely 
necessary to the happiness of the campers. 

Chapter VIII 


The launch Naiad, Hiram Bolster captain, was 
making the round trip of Halcyon Lake. "See 
that bungalow over yonder, and the little church 
above it?" said Captain Bolster. "That 's Hurri- 
cane, Dr. Hamilton's camp. He 's a minister. 
And that there is Brook's Cove," he said a few 
minutes later, pointing out to his passengers a 
picturesque bay with a strip of beach where stood 
a boat-house and a dock. Above the curve of 
sand was a high bank, and upon it, under the 
shade of golden birches, were a dozen tents, a 
flagpole in front, and near by a rustic bungalow. 
"Looks as if they must have a regiment up 




there, don't it?" the old man went on. "Well, so 
they have, only it 's a regiment of gals. I seen 
'em drillin' t' other mornin', and the purty little 
colonel givin' 'em orders, just like they was sol- 
diers. That 's Mis' Brook's place. Them little 


school-gals calls it 'Huairarwee.' 'Where arc 
we?' that 's what they mean, because folks gets 
lost in the woods tryin' to find their way to it. 
They 're full of fun, them gals, and they do have 
a mighty good time !" 

The girl campers were indeed having a most 
Vol. XXXVIT.-99. 

royal lime, and the pretty colonel was Carol her- 
self. As her father was convalescent, she had 
been able to accept the appointment of instructor 
of athletics. Several weeks had now gone by, and 
never was there a busier young lady. Each morn- 
ing, with the bugle-call of 
reveille, she roused the 
girls for "setting-up" drill 
and the early dip in the 
lake. Later came a genu- 
ine military drill, her own 
institution, and the boat- 
ing and swimming lessons, 
and already the good news 
had been sent to Miss 
Hamersley, "Your substi- 
tute is a prime success." 

Thisafternoon the whole 
order, with Carol and the 
German teacher, had gone 
to Pickerel Island on a 
fishing excursion. When 
night came they slept on 
the woody islet in open 
shacks, their couches bal- 
sam boughs. Before dawn 
they were out on the 
rocks, fishing; and noon 
found several of them hid- 
ing away inside the "Wiz- 
ard's Grotto." They were 
seated on the brink of the 
"Wizard's Wash-bowl," a 
black pool in the heart of 
the cavern; but so deep 
were they in conversation 
that for some moments no 
one had glanced at the 
water. Presently Hilda 
turned to dabble her hand 
in the Wash-bowl ; but in- 
stead of dipping it in she 
hastily drew it back. 

"Girls, what 's that thing 
in the water?" she fairly 
screamed. Her start and 
exclamation made the 
others jump. She was 
staring aghast at the pool. 
A white object was bob- 
bing in the center of the 
inky water where nothing had been five min- 
utes before. The thing was of a nature to cause 
the wizard's lair to resound with shrieks of sur- 
prise not unmixed with horror, and the same 
cry was on every tongue, "It 's a hand ! A human 



Yes, it was a hand ! White as chalk ! And it 
signaled to the girls with its extended fingers ! 

"Horrors alive ! How did the thing get there?" 

"It 's the wizard— he 's coming up after us !" 

"No, it 's just his hand he 's sent up— his hor- 
rible, white, ghostly hand!" 

"Look, look ! It has a gold ring on its finger !" 

"It has! A gold finger-ring!" 

"Pick it out, Jean! You 're the nearest!" said 

"Oh, yes! Easy enough to say, 'Pick it out!' 
but I don't like hands without arms. Oogh ! it 
looks clammy ! Well, here goes !" Jean made one 
heroic snatch and held the trophy up by a finger. 
A burst of laughter followed. It was a glove ; 
nothing but a lady's white chamois-skin glove, 
with a fishing-line trailing from it. Inflated with 
air, it was bound tight at the wrist by the 
line, which served also to tie the ring securely 
to the finger. The ring was set with a large 
stone. Jean carried it to the light, stared, and 
gasped. "For pity's sake, it 's my precious signet!" 

Yesterday, before starting for camp, having 
found that the amethyst seal was a trifle loose, 
she had left Veronica's ring at Camp Hurricane 
to be carried to a jeweler's by Court, who was 
going to New York in a day or two. Yet here 
was the royal signet with the familiar monogram. 

"Oh, yes, your Majesty, stare and look the 
soul of innocence!" exclaimed Cecily. "But you 

[To be 

know you put it in there yourself when our backs 
were turned !" 

"I ? Not much ! Do you think I 'd risk my 
darling ring like that? It 's a trick of Frisky's. 
She must have wheedled it back from Court." 
Jean turned on Frances with ferocity. "Mouse, 
confess your crimes this instant, or I '11 expel 
you from the order!" 

"Have n't any to confess," replied Frances. 
The others likewise protested their innocence. 

"Then it 's some trick of the other girls," said 
Cecily. "They must have let it down by the fish- 
line through that crack in the roof, and we were 
so busy talking we did n't notice." 

"I '11 court-martial them this minute !" cried 
the queen, and she despatched Frances to the 
other side of the island to summon the rest of 
the party to answer the charge. They came pell- 
mell to the grotto, but their evident amazement 
at once cleared them of all suspicion. 

"Then a pirate did it, and he must have come 
cruising along while we were in the cave!" de- 
clared Carol. "Cecily, my next glove bill goes to 
your revered cousin Jack. I suspect this is one 
of the spick-and-span white gloves that I left in 
the chapel on Sunday." 

"If Jack 's done it I '11 give him the biggest 
talking to he 's ever had !" cried Cecily. And 
when dinner was over the girls returned to 
Huairarwee on vengeance bent 




If you don't believe in fairies, ~and the elves are not your friends, 
And you have no faith in brownies or in gnomes, 

Let me give you just a glimpse 

Of the ugly little IMPS 
That invade to-day so many happy homes. 

IMPoliteness is an IMP whom every child should try to shun, 
And older people, too, without a doubt. 

IMPatience is another 

Who will cause you lots of bother 
'Less you send him quickly to the right-about. 

IMPertinence and IMPudence are naughty little twins, 
And, oh, it is astonishing to see 

The mischief that they do; 

And, my dear, if I were you, 
Their comrade I would never, never be. 



One little IMP will sit astride a pencil or a pen 
Whene'er there is a problem hard in view, 
And draw his mouth 'way down, 
And whine out, with a frown : 
"IMPossible, IMPossible to do!" 

IMPrudence and IMPenitence and IMPulse are three more 
(Though the latter is not always under ban) ; 
And there are more, no doubt, 
" Who are hovering about 
To get us into mischief if they can. 

Of little foxes you have heard, who spoil the lovely vines. 
These ugly IMPS are dangerous, too, you see. 

Let us raise a battle-shout ! 

We may put them all to rout. 
Oh, what a glorious victory that would be ! 


Mrs. Jay (boarding-house keeper): " Very sorry, Mr. Owl, that I can't take you, but I 'i: 
afraid you 'd keep all the other boarders awake at night! " 



Temple of the Empress of Heaven, China. 
This is the 13th day of the fifth moon of the 33d 
year of Kwang-su, very early in the morning — 


that is, "very early" for me, because I ordered 
my "boy" last evening to call me at eight o'clock 
this morning and not a minute before. Here, in 
the rambling old temple where we live, we have 
learned to go to bed with the sun on the 14th and 
on the last day of each Chinese moon, because we 
know that the wailing pipes of the earl)' morning 
celebrations before the gods on the 1st and 15th 
of the moon will be certain to wake us at a truly 
heathenish hour. But when an extra, unan- 
nounced, unexpected festival clay is ushered in 
with cymbals, pipes, and firecrackers, then we 
just have to lose our morning sleep and try not 
to lose our tempers. This morning is one of those 
dawns of misery. Even as I write the temple 
bells, the drums, and those peculiar jig-time horns 
are setting up a discordant hubbub in the court- 
yards, while at intervals a big cracker sends me 
springing into the air with a start that fearfully 
tries my nerves. At first this morning I endeav- 
ored to sleep, but I soon gave that up to don my 
kimono and sally forth to find out the cause of 
this gratuitous Fourth of July. Out on the ter- 
race in front of the inner gates of the temple, to 
which the rays of the rising sun had not yet bent 
down, there was gathered a small group of men 
and boys watching such a display of firecrackers 

as would have attracted a whole City Hall Park 
full of people at home. Yet their interest was 
apparently much like their numbers — very small. 
They just gazed at the exploding end of the red 
string of noise without any comments and with- 
out any more evident interest than they took in 
seeing that the small boys picked up all of the 
unexploded crackers that were blown out of the 
danger circle by their more powerful brothers. 


My appearance in a kimono and straw sandals 
seemed to furnish them with more excitement 
than the rope of crackers which hung from the 
firecracker pole hard by. Such a din ! Can you 
imagine a string of firecrackers, large and small 
woven together, of over 100,000? 

But I am getting ahead of my story. By way 



of introduction I meant only to tell you that I 
have for some time been planning to write a let- 



ter to your good editor in the hope that he might 
be willing to pass on to you of the fast-disappear- 
ing American "firecracker age" my story of how 
this country, the native land of the "whip-guns," 
manufactures and uses these crackers which we 
think of as belonging only to our Fourth of July. 

The desire and determination to write this let- 
ter had their birth one day in a city of North 
China when I was walking along the street where 
many of the firecracker-makers live — since dubbed 
"Firecracker Row" on my private chart of the 
city — and when I suddenly realized how much I 
should have liked as a boy, when I was "shooting 
off crackers," to see these places and to know 
their ways of manufacture. It is difficult not to be 
interrupted nor to interrupt these lines. Now 
there are two little pigtailed heads stretched up 
just over my window-sill, peeping in and asking 
if I do not wish to buy the tiger-lilies they have 
gathered on the hillside. So first I will try to tell 
you how the crackers are made and then how 
they are used out here, in the hope that you may 
find as much interest in reading the story as I 
have found in gathering the information and pic- 
tures for it. 

Several times I went into the city to visit Fire- 
cracker Row, and on one occasion took a series 
of photographs to show more clearly than words 
will do the important steps in the process of man- 
ufacture. The first step consists in cutting the 
rough brown paper into pieces such as you can 
see piled up on the back of the bench just below 
the lamp in Fig. i. These are long enough to 

make a hollow tube of several layers in thickness, 
and wide enough to give the tube a length just 
twice that of the finished cracker. From the top 
of his pile the workman takes a pack of these 
slips, lays them out with one end arranged just 
like steps, and then slides down the stairs, as it 
were, with a brush of paste, so as. to make the 
outer ends of the slips stick fast when rolled 
against the tube. Then he bends the other — the 
dry — end around an iron nail, and places the nail 
under a board, which rolls it along the slip until 
all the paper has curled around it, just as you can 
see the old man rolling one in Fig. 2. Once the 
cracker skeleton is thus formed, he gives it an 
extra roll or two down the bench for good mea- 
sure, slides it off the nail into a basket, and has 
another started before you realize what he is 
about. Then one of the small apprentices in the 
shop arranges the skeletons together in a six- 
sided bundle, like those on the drying-board in 
Fig. 3, in each of which he puts just 507. Why 
that particular number, I could not find out. 


Once dry, the skeletons receive their covering 
garment of red paper, which makes them so truly 
"little redskins" — this from the hands of one of 
the workers without the aid of any machine what- 
ever. He just rolls one of the narrow slips 
around the tube with his fingers and hurries the 




growing agitator into another basket to await the 
time for stuffing in the material that will make 
him such a lively fellow. Once more, however, 
they all have to be packed up into the six-sided 
bundles, this time with two stout strings tied 
around them a third of the way from the top and 
bottom, leaving the middle free. You can see 
clearly in Fig. 4 the way the workers take their 
big knife and chop right down through the whole 
bundle to make the clean ends for the tops of the 
shorter tubes. 

These shorter tubes next have a thin paper cov- 
ering pasted over both tops and bottoms before 
the bottoms are closed by tapping them with a 
nail that is just a little larger than the hole in the 
tube, so that it crowds down some of the paper 
from the sides. With the bundles right side up, 
the workman then makes holes in the paper cover 
over the top, scatters on this the powder dust, and 
distributes it fairly evenly among the 507 hungry 
ones by means of a light brush. When the dust 
has been tamped a little, the powder finds its way 
to the middle of the tube in the same manner, the 
fuse is inserted by another workman, the top 
layer of dust added, and the whole supply of bot- 
tled fun packed in by another tamping with a nail 
and mallet. Completed and still crowded together 
in the bundles, the little redskins, with the fuses 
sticking out of their caps, seem to wear a festive, 


promising look that clearly says: "You give us a 
light, and we '11 do the rest. And what a high old 
time it will be !" 

When asked how many of these bundles one 
man could make in a day, the good-natured mas- 
ter of the shop — whose smile in Fig. 6 is proof 

enough to support my statement — said that one 
man is counted on to make twenty bundles up to 
the point where the powder is put in, when the 
crackers are passed along to others to finish and 
weave into strings. What a string means here in 
this land, where the diminutive "packs" we used 



to buy for a nickel would be scorned, may be 
gathered from a glance at those which the maker 
is holding up in Fig. 5 and at those on the drying- 
boards in the view shown in Fig. 3. 

Once the crackers have been fully prepared for 
stringing, either they are put together in such 
strings as you see in the pictures or they have big- 
ger fellows — four or five times the size of the little 
ones— plaited in at regular intervals. Then they 
are wrapped neatly with red or white paper in 
long packages bearing on the face a red slip with 
the shop's name printed on it in gilt characters. 
Some of these packets would have seemed mon- 
strous—needlessly extravagant — in those days 
when I used to make one or two nickel packs last 
the better part of a Fourth of July morning by 
firing them one by one in a hole in the tie-post or 
under a tin can. To give these longer strings 
sufficient strength to hang from a pole, as is the 
usual way of firing them, the workmen weave in 
with the fuses a light piece of hemp twine. But 
even this is not an adequate protection against a 
break in those monster strings that come out on 
special occasions. The one that started this letter 
to you was fifteen feet long when I arrived on 
the scene to investigate the disturbance and had 
already lost one half its numbers (I have seen 
strings from thirty to fifty feet long). To keep 







J7 jj. g «, 


"DOUBLE NOISES." ^T% ^^^^^^^L 








such a string from breaking, the Chinese fasten 
it at intervals to a rope which runs through the 

pulley at the top of the pole, and then draw the 
line up until the bottom clears the ground. As 
the explosions tear away the lowest crackers, the 
rope is let down and, at the same time, held out 
away from the bottom of the pole to make a 
graceful curve of the last few feet of the string. 
When such long strings have eaten themselves 
up, you can picture the amount of fragments 
around the base of the pole. There are literally 
basketfuls of them to be first wetted down to 
guard against fire and then swept up or allowed 
to blow away when the winds so will. 

Thus far you have heard only of little and big 
crackers. However, there are many distinguish- 
ing names among the Chinese for the several 
varieties and sizes, which I am going to give you 
before passing on to the story of the special uses 
of crackers in the Chinese life. First come the 
ordinary pien p'ao, or "whip-guns," the small 
ones which derive their name from the similarity 
which their explosion bears to the snapping of a 
whip. Sometimes they are called simply "whips, ' 
in the same way that the Chinese speak of many 
things by shortened or changed names. To make 
these names seem more real to you I have had 
my Chinese teacher write out for me on sepa- 
rate slips the characters which represent them. 
More diminutive than the ordinary crackers are 
the "small whips," about an inch long, that are 
made especially for the small children to use with- 
out danger. For one American cent you could 
buy about ioo of these. Then above the whip- 
guns the next class is the "bursting bamboos," 



which are said to have taken their name from the 
fact that in early times bamboo was used as the 
tubes for these crackers. If such were the case, 
a line of them must have "made the splinters fly." 
Even still more powerful are the "hemp thunder- 
ers," or, to take a little liberty with the transla- 
tion, the "hemp sons of thunder," whose name 
also indicates their construction and their magni- 
tude. Bearing a close similarity in power to our 
cannon crackers, these have been known at times 
to break the second-story paper windows in a 
small compound. They play an important part in 
the worshiping or propitiating of the gods in our 
courtyard, inasmuch as it is considered good form 
to set them off at intervals while the whip-guns 
— which my teacher assures me "do not require 
any watching" — are keeping up their unbroken 
stream of praise and prayer. They may be con- 
sidered as good lusty "Aniens" throughout the 

Slightly different in form are the "double 
noises," which are nothing more or less than our 
"boosters" that go off first on the ground and 
again up in the air. To intersperse these through- 
out the explosions of the whips during any spe- 
cial demonstration is also considered good form. 
Then allied to these we find another booster, 
which when it explodes on the ground drives ten 
others up into the air to become the "flying in 
heaven ten sounds" with the Chinese. These are 
only "for play," and that chiefly in the homes 
from the 13th to the 17th days of the first moon 
of the year. With the "lamp flower exploders," 
that is, our flower-pot, the list of the most com- 
mon forms of crackers and fireworks becomes 
exhausted, although the Chinese have several 
other less usual species, together with many al- 
ternative names for both these and the ones I 
have mentioned. 

The time when the Chinese receive most crack- 
ers is at the New Year season, when, among the 
well-to-do families of Tientsin and Peking, it is 
customary to give a boy the equivalent of our 
fifty cents for his purchases. In Peking the shops 
issue special red notes, like our old "shinplasters" 
in value, for this one use at the New Year. In 
giving the cracker money to the boys, the parents 
often make smaller presents to the girls, who are 
wont to buy paper flowers with their pennies, in 
proof of which the Chinese have a proverb which 
runs, "Girls like flowers ; boys like crackers." 

But this juvenile use of the whip-guns con- 
sumes only an infinitesimal part of the whole sup- 
ply of the year. At many festivals and on many 
occasions the head of the house, the manager of 
the shop, or the officers of the gild require great 
quantities of these propitious harbingers. Great- 

est cf all occasions is the passing of the year, 
when the people keep up the successor to the 
ancient custom of setting off the "bamboo guns" 
in order to drive away the evil spirits of the past 
twelvemonth and to usher in all that is good for 
the coming one. All night long the crackers have 
been popping in the town below, and an early 
gathering in the temple is held to add the final 
touch before the new day shall break. 

When morning came, I wandered leisurely to 
my office through the business section of the town 
to watch the fun at the big shops. Never shall I 
forget the picture of that street with its dozen or 
more great red strings of crackers hanging in 
front of the bigger hongs and seemingly waiting 
for some word to start the fusillade. Fortunately 
this came and the storm broke as I waited. For 
sheer noise, vivacity, and demonstrative liveliness 
I never have seen the equal of those snarling, 
bursting lines that poured out their wrath with 
incessant fervor upon the evil spirits below and 
shot up their welcome to the good ones above. 
Then, although this display on New Year's Day 
seemed grand enough to last a long time, there 
came more explosions as the shops took down 
their doors and began again their routine busi- 
ness on the 5th or 6th of the moon. Further- 
more, custom demands in certain parts that 
throughout the first ten days of the year there 
shall be occasional snappings of the whips, to be 
followed on the 15th, at the Feast of Lanterns, 
by a still greater demonstration. 

When a new shop is opened, it is customary 
for all the front boards to be left up until just 
before the opening ceremony takes place ; then 
one or two boards are taken down, the manager 
and his assistants come out to light a string of 
crackers, and, as the whips are snapping, the re- 
maining boards come down to the sound of this 
propitious music of the land. Very 'often there 
are several strings hung from poles or tripods, 
and one is lighted after the other in such a way 
as to maintain a long, unbroken stream of noise. 

In most parts of the empire it is also customary 
for an official, when he receives the seals of office 
from his predecessor, to have a string of crackers 
let off at the proper moment. And I must confess 
to having yielded myself to the pressure of my Chi- 
nese assistants in having purchased a few for use 
at the time we opened our new office at this place. 
Likewise, when a military official is leaving a 
post, he is usually accorded a send-off with crack- 
ers which have been subscribed for by his men. 

And thus, from what has gone before, you may 
catch some idea of the persistency with which the 
little redskins have poked their noses into almost 
all the important celebrations of the Chinese life. 


{More " Betty " Stories)* 


Toward the latter part of June the McGuire fam- 
ily migrated to Denniston for the summer. The 
beautiful country place, on the outskirts of the 
little town of Greenborough, was looking its 
prettiest as they arrived one lovely afternoon and 
took possession. 

"In some ways I 'm glad to be back here," said 
Betty, as they sat on the veranda after supper, 
"and in some ways I 'm not." 

"That 's the way with 'most everything," com- 
mented Jack, philosophically ; "there are always 
some good sides and some bad sides to whatever 
we do. I iove Denniston, but there 's more to do 
in Boston." 

"And more people," said Betty. 

"Yes," agreed Jack ; "I 've always noticed there 
are more people in a large city than in a small 

Betty threw a hammock pillow at him, and 
went on : "I mean more people that I like to be 
with. I shall miss Dorothy and Jeanette awfully 
down here." 

"You might invite them to visit you," sug- 
gested her mother. 

"I would ; but it 's rather dull here. There 's 
nothing special for them to do, you see ; they 
usually go to watering-places in the summer, and 
I doubt if they 'd want to come here." 

"Oh, pshaw, Betty !" said Jack. "They 'd like 
to come, just to see you. And Denniston Hall is 
a lovely place. A flock of girls ought to be able 
to make fun for themselves here." 

"That 's so," said Betty; "anyhow, I '11 ask 
them, and if they don't want to come, they can 
decline. I '11 ask Constance too, and perhaps 
Lena— that is, if you are willing, Mother." 

"Do," said her mother. "Make it a little house- 
party. With picnics and drives you can make it 
pleasant for them, I 'm sure." 

Just then Agnes Graham and her brother Stub 
came strolling up the driveway, and heartily wel- 
comed the Denniston people back to their summer 

"You 're just in time," said Agnes, as the young 

people grouped themselves in the wicker chairs 
on the veranda or in the swinging settee; "have 
you heard about the Library Benefit?" 

"No," said Betty; "what is it?" 

"Oh, somebody 's going to give a whole lot of 
money for a town library, if the town will raise 
another whole lot of money itself. And so every- 
body in Greenborough is planning to do some- 
thing to help. And we thought, that is, we hoped, 
you 'd join with the Dorcas Club, and help us." 

"I 'd like to," said Betty, "but tell me more 
about it." 

"Well, the truth is, Betty, the girls of the 
Dorcas Club have n't really made any definite 
plans, and they want you to suggest something — 
only they 're afraid to ask you." 

"Afraid to ask me!" exclaimed Betty. "Why?" 

"Oh, they think you 're so haughty and stuck-up 
since you 've lived in Boston that they 're afraid 
you won't want to work with us." 

"Agnes Graham, you ought to be ashamed of 
yourself! Have you ever known me to act a bit 
haughty ?" 

"No, I have n't. But the other girls don't 
know you as well as I do, and they say that." 

"Pooh ! May Fordham and Tillie Fenn know 
me quite as well as you do ; do they say I 'm 
haughty ?" 

"No, May and Tillie don't— at least, I 've never 
heard them." 

"Well, who does, then? You may a^ well tell 

"Oh, let 's drop the subject!" said Stub, who 
hated a fuss. "What do you girls want to gossip 

"Betty 's right," put in Jack; "if people say 
she 's haughty, when she is n't, she ought to 
know who says it." 

"Oh, it 's nobody in particular," said Agnes, 
alarmed at the excitement she had caused. "If 
you 're nice to them, Betty, they '11 stop saying it." 

"If she 's nice to them !" exclaimed Jack, in- 
dignantly. "Betty 's always nice to everybody, 
Agnes Graham !" 


* Betty McGuire, a waif from an orphan-asylum, is an undor-servant in a boarding-house. 

Suddenly she comes into a large fortune, which she inherits from her grandfather who died in Australia. Somewhat bewildered by her 
good luck, but quite sure of what she wants, Betty buys a home, and then proceeds to "buy a family," as she expresses it. 

She engages a lovely old lady as housekeeper, but adopts her as a grandma, and calls her so. She takes Jack, a newsboy, for her brother, 
and she selects a dear little child from an infant orphan-asylum for her baby sister. 

With this "family," and with some good, though lowly, friends who were kind to her when she was poor, for servants, Betty lives at her new 
home, Denniston Hall. 

By reason of several circumstances Betty feels sure her relatives may be found, if she searches for them. 

Her search results in finding her own mother, who is overjoyed at finding again the daughter who, she supposed, had died in infancy. 

Vol. XXXVII. -ioo. 





"I can stand up for myself," said Betty, laugh- 
ing at Jack's emphatic speech. "Go on, Agnes, 
and tell me what they want me to do." 

"Well, what they want is for you to let them 
have a sort of a garden-party here at Denniston, 
and charge admission, you know, and let all the 
club take part." 

Betty considered. 

"I had thought of having a garden-party my- 
self," she said; "a sort of home-coming to Den- 
niston, you know. I don't see why we could n't 
combine the two, and so make some money for 
your Library Fund." 

"Oh, that would be fine!" said Agnes. "That 's 
what they want, — to have the affair here, you 
know,— but they thought you would n't be will- 

"And I won't be willing unless you tell me who 
it is that says things about me." 

"No, I won't do that, Betty ; it is n't fair." 

"Well, perhaps it is n't. Never mind ; I shall 
soon find it out for myself. Now let 's plan the 
garden-party. When shall we have it?" 

"Let 's have it on Fourth of July," suggested 
Jack. "Then we can combine patriotism and 
charity and fun and everything." 

Mrs. McGuire approved the plan, and agreed to 
help in any way she could. 

So the very next day Betty went to a meeting 
of the Dorcas Club, and was made a member of 
it. The girls all seemed glad to welcome Betty, 
and were delighted at the prospect of a garden- 
party at Denniston on the Fourth of July. The 
club was a good-sized one, numbering about thirty 
girls in all, and they at once began to appoint 
committees, and so divide the work to be done. 

"We '11 have everything red, white, and blue," 
said May Fordham, "and flags everywhere. Oh, 
it will be beautiful !" 

Susie Hale was president of the club, and it 
was only a short time before Betty discovered 
that it was Susie who was not entirely in sym- 
pathy with the plan proposed. Betty was amused 
rather than annoyed at Susie's attitude, for of 
course Susie had no real reason to dislike Betty, 
or to consider her proud or haughty. 

It was really a sort of envy or jealousy that 
Susie felt, and this seemed to manifest itself in 
sly innuendos or mean little acts, for which 
there is always opportunity in a girls' club. 

At the second meeting Betty was made chair- 
man of the general committee, and as this was 
practically giving her entire charge of the whole 
affair, it made Susie's position as president of the 
club a secondary offiee. 

However, as the fete was to be held at Betty's 
home, it was only right that she should be the 

principal in the management of it, and most of 
the girls were quite content to have it so. 

Betty had invited four girls from Boston, and 
Dorothy, Jeanette, Constance, and Lena arrived 
a few .days before the Fourth, quite ready to take 
part in the festivities. 

The Van Courts, too, who were one of the prin- 
cipal families of Greenborough, had agreed to 
lend all the assistance they could, and so the 
garden-party bade fair to be a great success. It 
was called an "Independence Day Reception," and 
the tickets were prettily printed in red and blue 
on white cards, and had tiny flags in the corner. 
They read thus: 





Remembering Constance's disappointment in 
not being able to take her part at the school com- 
mencement, Betty resolved to make it up to her 
on this occasion. 

So, though the club girls insisted that Betty 
herself should take the part of Columbia, she 
positively refused to do so, and proposed that 
Constance Harper should personate the Goddess 
of Liberty. 

This arrangement suited Susie Hale, who did n't 
want Betty to have the admiration and applause 
that would, of course, be given to Columbia as 
hostess of the entertainment. 

Mr. Richard Van Court consented to take the 
part of Uncle Sam, and thus the principal figures 
were arranged. 

The girls of the club were to wear whatever 
costumes they chose. 

A grand march was to be made first, in which 
different countries were to be represented. 

Betty chose Ireland, and had a lovely green 
costume made for the occasion. The boys of 
Greenborough were invited to participate also, and 
the characters of John Bull, a French marquis, a 
Spanish troubadour, a Swiss peasant, an Italian, 
a Chinaman, and other nationalities were chosen 
by some of the boys and girls. Others were to 
be in attendance at the various booths, or to act 
as waiters in the refreshment tent. 

When the Fourth of July arrived, all of the 
Denniston household were astir at daybreak, for 
there was much to be done that could not be done 
until the day of the fair. 

By midday, however, the place was nearly 




ready. Pat had worked steadily, and so had all Booths were all about the grounds, 
the other servants, as well as the family and the The largest was the main refreshment tent, 
guests. The beautiful grounds of Denniston were where dainty little tables were set forth, with 
gay with decorations. Japanese paper table-cloths and napkins all bear- 
Flags waved everywhere; bunting was draped, ing our own national emblems, 
and Japanese lanterns swung from every available The waitresses here were thirteen girls who 


point. Big white transparencies, which would be 
illuminated in the evening, bore the national 
dates, or announced the goods for sale at the 
various booths. 

The house, too, was decked with flags and lan- 
terns, and the spacious veranda was filled with 
chairs, where guests might linger to listen to the 

The band-stand was near by, and a fine or- 
chestra had been engaged to play patriotic airs. 

represented the thirteen original States. They 
wore white dresses and tricolor sashes and caps, 
with the name of their States in gilt letters. An- 
other booth held all sorts of small articles for sale 
— fancy-work, from sofa-pillows to needle-books, 
all made of red, white, and blue silks ; photograph 
frames made of silk flags ; dolls dressed in red, 
white, and blue ; scrap-books made of linen of 
the same colors, and filled with patriotic pictures 
and verses. Even such prosaic things as dusters 




and sweeping-caps were of the three colors and 
found a ready sale. 

Another booth had flags, fire-works, and Fourth 
of July badges for sale. The lemonade, in ac- 
cordance with time-honored tradition, was served 
by "Rebecca at the Well." The well had been 
prettily built by a carpenter in imitation of "The 
Old Oaken Bucket," and as Rebecca wore the 
American colors, the dramatic unities were some- 
what lost, but nobody minded, as the lemonade 
was ice-cold and very good. An Indian wigwam 
was a gay feature. Jack had this in charge, and 
had superintended the building of it himself. 

A tribe of ferocious-looking Indian braves, 
much befeathered and painted, sold Indian curios, 
baskets, and beads. 

The tennis-courts, bowling-alleys, and croquet- 
grounds were in order, and patrons could indulge 
in these games by payment of a small fee. 

Inside the house, too, entertainment was pro- 

Various indoor games were offered, and there 
was also a reading-room, with magazines and 
books for all. In another room was shown an 
"Historic Loan Collection." Many of the resi- 
dents of Greenborough had relics of Revolution- 
ary days, which they loaned for this occasion. 
As there were many really interesting and valu- 
able specimens, the visitors were quite willing 
to pay the extra fee required to see them, and 
the room was well-filled with patrons much of the 
time. Opposite this room, in another room, was 
a "Burlesque Loan Collection," and this attracted 
quite as much attention. 

Stub Graham had this in charge, and he de- 
served credit for the clever and humorous jokes 
he devised. 

Catalogues had been prepared, and as an in- 
ducement to buy them, a large placard outside 
the door announced that each purchaser of a 
catalogue would receive, free of charge, a steel- 
engraving of George Washington. When these 
premiums proved to be two-cent postage-stamps, 
and canceled ones at that, much merriment ensued. 

Among the so-called Revolutionary relics were 
such jests as these: 

".Early Home of George Washington," repre- 
sented by an old-fashioned cradle. 

"Vision of Washington's Old Age": a pair of 

"Washington's Reflections" was a small por- 
trait of Washington arranged so that it was re- 
flected in a triplicate mirror. 

"The Most Brilliant Lights of the Washington 
Era" were a few lighted candles. "The Lone 
Picket" was a single fence-picket. "The Tax on 
Tea" showed a few carpet-tacks on some tea. 

"A Little Indian" was a small portion of Indian 

"An Old-Time Fancy Ball" was a child's gay- 
colored worsted ball, much torn. 

"Washington at One Hundred Years of Age" 
was a bird's-eye map of the city of Washington. 

"Away down on the Suwanee River" was a 
map of Georgia showing plainly the Suwanee 
River, on which was pasted a tiny bit of down. 

"The Last of the Army" was simply the letter Y. 

"A Member of Washington's Cabinet" was an 
old brass handle from a mahogany cabinet. 

These and many other such quips made up an 
exhibition that amused people quite as much as 
the display of real relics edified them. 

The preparation of all these features meant a 
great deal of hard work, but it was the sort of 
work made light by many hands, and so it was 
enjoyed by all who engaged in it. 

And so, by midday on the Fourth of July, 
everything was in readiness, and the willing 
workers went to their homes, to return later, 
ready to reap the results of their labors. 

The grand march was to take place at three 
o'clock, and Columbia and Uncle Sam were to 
review it from their stand on the veranda. This 
was to be followed by the singing of the "Star- 
Spangled Banner," accompanied by the orchestra. 

It had been arranged that Betty should sing 
the verses as a solo, and that all the others, and 
indeed all the audience, should join in the chorus. 
Betty had not cared specially about singing, but 
had good-naturedly agreed to do so when the 
music committee asked her to. 

Her voice had improved by reason of her sing- 
ing lessons in Boston, and after practising the 
national anthem with her mother, she felt that 
she could manage its high notes successfully. 

It seemed a little incongruous for a girl in a 
green costume and carrying the harp of Erin to 
sing the American song, but Betty was of New 
England parentage as well as Irish, and she was 
glad to show her double patriotism. Constance 
was greatly pleased at her role of Columbia, and 
her costume was beautiful. Very becoming, as 
well, was the striped red and white skirt, and the 
blue bodice spangled with stars. A liberty-cap, 
and a large well-made shield on which to lean, 
added to the picturesque effect. 

Mr. Dick Van Court was a humorous figure in 
his "Uncle Sam" suit. He looked just as the 
Uncle Sam of the cartoons always looks, and as 
he was a tall, thin young man, the character 
suited him well. A white beaver hat and the long, 
sparse locks of hair and white goatee were all in 
evidence, so that Mr. Dick's costume was pro- 
nounced a success by all the visitors. 




About two o'clock Betty went to her room to 
dress. She had been busy every minute of the 
day, had scarcely taken time to eat her luncheon, 
but now everything was in readiness, and she had 
only to dress and take her place in the grand 
march at three o'clock. 

Slipping on a kimono, she threw herself down 
on a couch for a moment's rest before dressing. 
It was perhaps half an hour later when Constance 
presented herself at the door of Betty's room, 
ready for inspection of her pretty costume. 

"May I come in?" she called, as she tapped at 
Betty's closed door. 

Getting no reply, she tapped again, but after 
two or three unanswered calls she concluded 
Betty had gone down-stairs, and so she went 
down herself. 

She did n't see Betty, but Mr. Van Court was 
there, in the full glory of his "regimentals," and 
the two, as it was not quite time to take their po- 
sition, strolled about the veranda, looking out 
upon the grounds. 

"It 's just like fairy-land," said Constance, "and 
to-night, when the lanterns are lighted, it will be 
still more so. Oh, here comes the band." 

The orchestra, in resplendent uniforms, took 
their places on the band-stand, and began their 
preliminary tuning of instruments. 

Then the girls and boys began to arrive, and 
each costume was greeted with admiring applause. 

"Where 's Betty?" said Dorothy, as she came 
down, dressed as a dear little Swiss peasant. 

"I don't know," answered Constance; "she must 
be out in the grounds somewhere. She was n't 
in her room when I came down." 

"Well, it 's time she appeared," said Dorothy. 
"It 's ten minutes of three now." 

"Where 's Betty?" said Jack, as, wrapped in 
his Indian blanket, he came suddenly up to the 
girls, looking somewhat worried. 

"I don't know," they replied at the same time. 
"She must be around somewhere." 

"Maybe she is," said Jack, "but she is n't 
dressed for the grand march yet. I 've just 
been to her room, and her green dress is all 
spread out on the bed, and she 's nowhere to be 
found. Mother does n't know where she is." 

"Why, how strange !" said Constance. "Betty 's 
never late, and it was about t-wo when we both 
went up-stairs to dress. Where can she be?" 

There did n't seem any real reason for alarm, 
but it was certainly strange that Betty should 
disappear so mysteriously. As Constance said, 
Betty was never late. She was always ready at 
the appointed time, and it seemed as if something 
must have happened to her. 

"I can't find Betty anywhere," said Mrs. Mc- 

Guire, as she joined the disturbed-looking group. 
"It 's so strange, for I know she had nothing 
more to attend to. She stopped at my door about 
two o'clock, and said everything was ready and 
she was going to dress." 

It was beginning to look serious now, and 
Dorothy went back to Betty's room to make 

As Jack had said, her pretty green dress was 
spread out in readiness. The little green slippers 
stood near by, and the green cap and gilt harp 
lay on the couch. Surely Betty had not begun to 
dress. She must have been called away by some 
one suddenly. Her kimono was flung across a 
chair as if hurriedly thrown there, and Dorothy 
looked in the dress-cupboard to see what Betty 
might be wearing. But there were many suits 
and dresses hanging there, and Dorothy could n't 
tell which, if any, pretty summer costume was 
missing. It was very mysterious, and she went 
slowly down-stairs again, wondering what they 
should do. 

"She 's been kidnapped," Mrs. McGuire was 
saying; "I 've always feared it!" 

"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Van Court, an elderly 
lady, who was Mr. Dick's mother. "Of course 
she has n't been kidnapped. I think she has fallen 
in the pond." 

Jack laughed at this. 

"Oh, no, Mrs. Van Court," he said; "Betty is 
too big a girl to tumble into the water. I think 
some one on some committee wanted her to look 
after some booth or something, and she 's about 
the place somewhere." 

"That 's all very well," said Dick Van Court, 
"but if I know Betty, she 'd attend to the matter 
and be back in time for the march at three o'clock." 

"It 's after three now," said Dorothy. "What- 
ever can we do?" 

Nobody knew just what to do. It did n't seem 
possible that anything unfortunate had occurred, 
and yet what else could be keeping Betty away, 
wherever she was? 

Meanwhile what had become of Betty? 

Well, it was just this: 

While she was in her own room, just about to 
dress in her green suit, a note was brought to her 
by one of the servants. 

The note read thus : 

DeerBety: Susie isent going to the Forth a July Party 
atall. She 's mad at you. 

Jennie Hale. 

Jennie Hale was Susie's younger sister, and 
Betty saw at once that she had written this note 
without Susie's knowledge. 

But for Susie, the president of the club, to stay 




away from the garden-party would be a catas- 
trophe indeed ! Betty would be censured for mak- 
ing trouble, and Susie's friends would say all 
sorts of things. It was hard on Betty. She had 
truly tried to make friends with Susie, and 
thought she had overcome the girl's silly jealousy. 
What especial thing Susie was "mad at" now, 

errands, and drove rapidly down the road toward 

It happened that no one noticed her going, but 
Betty did not think of this, so engrossed was she 
in the matter in hand. 

She dashed up to Susie's door and rang the 
bell. Mrs. Hale herself opened the door, and 


Betty did n't know. But she must find out, and 
make peace, if possible, before time for the gar- 
den-party to begin. 

She looked at her watch. It was a quarter past 
two. If she went right over to Susie's she might 
fix it up, and get back in time to dress. 

She flung off her kimono, and quickly donned 
a linen suit, selecting the one she could get into 
most easily. 

Then she ran down-stairs, and, without a hat 
or gloves, jumped into the pony-cart, to which 
Dixie had been harnessed all day, in case of 

from the cold, hard expression on her face, Betty 
felt that she was unwelcome. 

"I 've come to see Susie, Mrs. Hale," she said 
pleasantly. "Is n't she ready for the party?" 

"No, she is n't!" snapped Mrs. Hale. "She 
is n't going to your old party, so you can sing the 
solos yourself." 

Then Betty understood. Susie had wanted to 
sing the solos ! Betty remembered now that Susie 
was the soprano of the village choir, and she 
probably resented Betty's being asked to sing the 
solos instead of herself. 




"Oh, my gracious !" exclaimed Betty, annoyed 
at this foolishness, and yet relieved that it could 
still be set right, "she can sing the solos, of course ! 
I 'd much rather she would ! Tell her so, won't 
you, and ask her to hurry and come." 

Mrs. Hale looked mollified, but she said : 

"She can't come now. She 's gone to her 
grandma's to spend the afternoon." 

"Oh, dear ! what a goose she is ! Why could n't 
she tell me sooner what she wanted? Where is 
her grandmother's?" 

Betty was looking at her watch and getting 
back into the cart, and gathering up the lines, pre- 
paratory to going after the truant. 

"It 's pretty late," said Mrs. Hale, glancing at 
the clock. "She '11 have to come back here to 
dress, you know." 

"Never mind that!" said Betty, a little impa- 
tiently, for she was upset over it all. "Where is 
her grandmother's?" 

"Oh, out on the Pine Hill road. The third 
house after you pass the mill." 

Betty groaned, for the place designated was a 
good two miles away, and Dixie was somewhat 
tired. But she touched him gently with the whip, 
and said : 

"Dear old Dixie, you '11 help me out, won't 
you ?" And then they went spinning away toward 
the Pine Hill road. 

Susie, from the window, saw Betty coming, 
and went out to meet her. 

She did n't look very pleasant, but Betty had 
no time to waste in coaxing just then. 

"Susie Hale," she said, "get right in this cart. 
Never mind your hat; just get in this very 
minute !" 

Susie was fairly frightened at Betty's tones, 
and though she was unwilling, she could n't help 
doing as she was told. 

Silent and a little bewildered, she climbed in 
beside Betty, and turning quickly, they were soon 
flying back over the road Betty had come. 

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," Betty 
began, for she was of no mind to spare Susie's 
feelings now. "You, the president of the club, to 
cut up such a childish caper ! You can sing the 
solos, of course; I don't care a mite! But you 
should have told me you wanted to sing them, in 
the first place." 

"Who told you I wanted to?" said Susie, 
weakly, now thoroughly ashamed of herself. 

"Your mother did, and I 'm glad she did, for 
I never should have guessed what foolish thing 
was the matter with you. I don't think anybody 
that would act like you have is fit to be president 
of a club !" 

Betty's righteous indignation seemed to show 
Susie the despicableness of her own conduct, and 
she began to cry. 

"I 'm sorry," she said ; "truly I am. Can you 
ever forgive me?" 

"I can," said Betty, "if you '11 do just as I tell 
you. First, stop crying. Second, jump out of 
this cart when we get to your house, and get into 
your costume like lightning! Third, come over 
to Denniston and take your place in the march 
and sing the solos, and act pleasantly and nicely 
about it. I '11 drive home after I leave you, and 
I '11 send the cart back for you. And you must 
be ready! Do you hear? You must be ready!" 

Betty spoke almost savagely, and Susie still 
looked scared, as she said: "I don't want to sing 
your solos now." 

"But you will sing them," said Betty. "You 
must sing them, and do your very best, too. You 
sing as well as I do, and to do as I tell you is the 
only way you can make up for the trouble you 've 
stirred up. Now, here you are at home. Fly and 
dress. Don't waste a minute. The cart will be 
back for you in a quarter of an hour!" 

Susie sprang out of the cart and ran into the 
house, and Betty drove rapidly away to Dennis- 
ton. As she tore up the driveway among the 
decorated booths and lantern-hung trees, the 
funny side of it struck her, and smiling broadly, 
she reached the veranda, where a bewildered 
group awaited her. 

"Where have you been ?" cried Constance. 
"What 's the matter?" 

"I 've been on an errand of mercy," said Betty, 
smiling still; "and nothing 's the matter. The 
grand march must be delayed a little, but I '11 be 
ready in a jiffy. Come on, Dorothy, and help me 
dress. Pat, please take Dixie and go over to Mrs. 
Hale's and bring Miss Susie back with you." 

And so the grand march was delayed only about 
half an hour. Susie arrived duly, and sang the 
solos very prettily. Afterward, when the whole 
story came out, much indignation was expressed 
that Betty should have been so bothered, but 
Betty herself did n't mind, for it had the result 
of making Susie her stanch friend forever after. 


Anditjust belonged tome, 
rhrt Betsey Moms stayed 

And as we^aiehed ttie 
fading light, 

It dipped out erelknew 
'twas gone, 
As slyly as could be. 

And now my ltttle5ecret 
That Iguarded faithle55l^ 5 
pel°n§5 tP &etszy Morris, too, 
The^hple vvade town.,— 

and me. 





True to the division superintendent's promise, 
a month following the incident of the runaway 
train Alex Ward was transferred to the de- 
spatching office at Exeter. It was the superin- 
tendent himself who that evening presented him 
for duty to the chief night despatcher ; and a few 
minutes later, having been initiated into the 
mysteries of despatching and following the move- 
ments of trains, Alex was shown to his wire. 

"It is only a branch line — to Midway freight 
junction," said the chief, "but if you make good 
you will soon be given something bigger. 

"And now, don't send too fast for the Junction 
operator. He is a slow receiver, but was the 
only man we could get to go there, on account 
of that haunting business." 

"Oh, has that 'ghost' appeared there again?" 
exclaimed Alex, with interest. 

"Yes, two nights ago ; and, like the three men 
before him, the man there left on the run. It 's 
strange. But I think this man will stick." 

At midnight Alex sent Midway Junction the 
order starting north the last train for the night. 
Fifteen minutes later the operator at "MJ" sud- 
denly called and ticked excitedly : "That thing 
is here ! It has been walking up and down the 
platform, and twice I 've jumped out, and the 
moment I opened the door it was gone ! 

"There it is again ! 

"Now it 's on the roof!" he announced a 
moment after. "Rolling something down!" 

Though himself excited, Alex sought to re- 
assure him. "But you know there must be some 
simple explanation. Just don't let yourself be 
frightened," he clicked. 

"Yes, I know," came the answer ; "but things 
seem very different when you are right here, and 
everything quiet, and it dark as pitch outside. 
If I had some one else here — " 

The instrument abruptly closed, a moment 
remained so, then suddenly whirred: "Did you 
get that? Did you hear that?" 

"Hear what? The wire was closed," said Alex. 

"Clooossclosd ! Gooed 6eavens ! Whiiiee — " 
With an effort the frightened operator at the 
other end seemed to control himself, and sent 
deliberately : "When I stopped that time some 
one broke in and said : 'Ha ha ! Hi hi ! Look 
behind! Look behind!'" 

Again the wire closed ; again opened. 

"Theeerit wasswas again!" 
Vol. XXXVII. -101. 8oI 

Alex called the chief over. "Mr. Allen, that 
'ghost,' or whatever it is — " 

Once more the instruments broke out in an 
almost inarticulate whir, and together with diffi- 
culty they picked out the words: ". . . sounds in 
next room . . . yelling and groaning just other 
side wall . . . whispering at me through a knot- 
hole . . . stand it any longer! G. B.'[Good-by.]" 

The chief grasped the key and sent quickly: 
"Wait a minute ! Are you there ?" There was no 
response. Again he called, then gave it up. 
"No use. He 's gone like the rest," he said. 
"Well, I am not sure I blame him. But it beats 
me !" 

As he was about to turn away, the chief handed 
Alex a letter. "I overlooked it when you came 
in," he explained. 

"Oh, from Jack Orr !" said Alex, with pleasure. 
A moment later he uttered a second explanation, 
again read, and with a delighted "The very 
thing !" hastened after the chief. 

"Mr. Allen, this letter is from a friend of 
mine, a first-class commercial operator, v/ho 
wants to get into railroad telegraphing, and who 
would be just the man to send to MJ. 

"He is a regular amateur detective, and has 
all kinds of pluck," said Alex, and in a few 
words recounted Jack's resourcefulness when the 
wires were cut at Oakton. 

The chief smiled and reached for a message 
blank. "Thank you, Ward," he said ; "that 's 
the man we want exactly. We '11 have him there, 
if possible, to-morrow evening." 

Needless to say, Jack Orr was delighted when, 
early the following morning, at Hammerton, he 
received the telegraphed appointment. At once 
resigning at the Hammerton office, he hurried 
home, by noon was on the train, and arrived at 
Midway Junction at seven o'clock. 

Entering the telegraph-room, he called Exeter. 

"Well, here I am, Al," he ticked, when Alex 
himself responded. "And I 'm ever so much 
obliged to you, for getting me the position." 

"Oh, don't mention it. And anyhow," replied 
Alex, "perhaps you had better save your thanks 
a minute. That station is haunted." And con- 
tinuing, he explained. 

"Well, I '11 do the best I can," said Jack. "But 
probably the 'ghost' won't show up again now 
for a while." 




"On the contrary, it is more likely to return 
soon," ticked Alex. "That has been the way 
every time so far — three or four appearances in 
succession. So you had better prepare for busi- 
ness at once." 

Alex's prediction was realized two nights 
later. A few minutes after the last freight had 
gone north, and Jack had been left entirely alone 
in the big station, he suddenly heard light foot- 
falls on the platform. Going to the window, he 
peered out into the darkness, and seeing nothing, 
turned to the door. Immediately he opened it 
the footsteps ceased. Startled, he returned and 
secured a lantern, and proceeded to search the 
platform. From one end to the other it was 
deserted and silent. 

But scarcely had he closed the office door on 
returning when once more he heard the foot- 
steps. With a bound he was again outside. As 
quickly again they had ceased. 

Immensely puzzled, Jack reentered the opera- 
ting-room and went to the key. As he opened 
it, from directly overhead came a thundering 
rumble, as of a heavy wooden ball bounding 
down the roof. 

In an instant, lantern in hand, he was once 
more at the door. Immediately, as before, all 
was silence. 

Nervous at last in spite of himself, Jack hesi- 
tated a moment, then determinedly set forth on 
a complete round of the station, throwing the 
lantern light up onto the roof, into every nook 
and corner, and through the dusty windows. 

Nowhere was there a sign of life. He returned. 
The moment he closed the door the rumbling 
broke out afresh. 

Jack sprang to the instruments, called Exeter, 
and sent excitedly: "Al, that thing is here, and is 

The line opened, then sharply clicked: "Ha ha! 
Look behind! Look behind!" 

With a cry Jack sprang to his feet and started 
for the cloor. But half-way he pulled up, with 
a last determined effort controlled his panic, and 
returned to the key. "I suppose you did n't hear 
that, Al?" he sent. 

"Not a letter. But hang on, Jack. Keep your 

"Oh, I 'm O.K. again now, and am going to 
stick unless I am lugged off bodily," said Jack, 
resolutely. "Though it certainly had me a 
moment ago. For there must be some natural 
explanation to it somehow, and sooner or later 
I '11 get it." 

"Yes, there must be a natural explanation 
somehow," Jack repeated to himself the following 
afternoon, as he left the big railroad boarding- 

house, a quarter-mile from the station, and set 
out for a walk, to think things over. 

"And I think the starting-point is that talk on 
the wire. That is the work of an operator. 

"Now, why is it heard only by me? I wonder! 
Could it be on the loop? A cutting-off arrange- 
ment on the station loop? 

"I '11 go and look into that right now," ex- 
claimed Jack, turning and heading for the station. 

The platforms and the big freight-shed were 
alive with the bustle of the freight-handlers, 
loading and unloading cars, trundling boxes and 
bales in and out of the big building; and, un- 
noticed, Jack discovered where the two wires 


passed in under the roof, and, entering, followed 
their course along the beams toward the tele- 
graph-room. He had almost reached the parti- 
tion, and was beginning to think his conclusion 
perhaps too hastily drawn, when a few feet from 
the wall he caught two unmistakable gleams of 
copper. With a suppressed cry he made his way 
directly beneath, and at once saw that the insu- 
lation had been removed. 

"Right! I was right!" exclaimed Jack, jubi- 
lantly. "And I can see in a minute how it is done. 

"Whoever it is simply gets up there somehow, 




and ticks one wire against the other ; then of 
course the instruments inside click as they are cut 
off and cut on, and the rest of the wire is not 
affected ! 

"Good ! I 'm on the trail ! 
"But what can be the object of it all?" 
He turned to look about him, and as in answer 
the lettering on a near-by box caught his eye : 


"Freight-stealing!" he exclaimed. "Can that 
be it?" 

On reporting for duty that evening Jack called 


Alex on the wire and asked whether any freight 
had been recently reported missing from the 
Midway depot. 

"No; but I understand some valuable stuff has 
been mysteriously disappearing at Claxton and 
Eastfield," was the reply. 

Jack was considerably disappointed, but before 
giving up this line of investigation he determined 
to study the freight records of the station, to see 
if any freight for the two places mentioned by 
Alex had passed through Midway. A few min- 
utes' search produced the record of a valuable 

shipment of silk to Claxton. Presently he found 
still others, then several to Eastfield. Hastening 
back to the wire, he called Alex and asked the 
nature of the goods missed at those places. 

"Mostly silk." 

Jack uttered a shout. "Hurrah, Al, I think I 
am on the trail !" he whirred. "But keep mum !" 

"And now, the next thing is, how do they work 
it ?" he asked himself. 

The answer came very unexpectedly as Jack 
left the office at daybreak. Strolling down the 
front platform, where several men already were 
at work, he inadvertently got in the way of a 
loaded truck, and on the sudden cry of the truck- 
man sprang aside, tripped, and fell headlong 
against a large packing-case. As he did so he 
distinctly heard from within the box a sharp 

Only with difficulty did Jack prevent himself 
crying out, and scrambling to his feet, he has- 
tened away, that his discovery might not be sus- 

The mystery was now clear. The "ghost" was 
a freight thief who had himself shipped, boxed 
up, to some point which would necessitate his 
being transferred and held overnight at the 
freight junction. During the night he came forth 
and played "specter," either to frighten the opera- 
tor away, or lead to the belief that any noises 
heard were "supernatural" ; then overhauled the 
valuable freight in the shed, took what he wanted 
with him into the box (which he could open and 
close from the inside), and was shipped away 
with it in the morning. The rifled packages, 
cleverly resealed, also went on to their destina- 
tions, and the blame of the theft was laid else- 

Jack was not long in deciding on his next 
move. Coming down from the boarding-house be- 
fore the shed was closed that afternoon, he noted 
where the box containing the unsuspected human 
freight had been placed, and selecting a window 
at a distant corner, quietly loosened its catch. 

It was nearly midnight, and Jack was once 
more the sole guardian of the station when he 
took the next step. And despite a certain ner- 
vousness, now that the exciting moment was near 
at hand, he found considerable amusement in 
carrying it out. It was nothing less than making 
a dummy imitation of himself, asleep on a cot 
in a corner of the telegraph-room, as a precau- 
tion in case the "ghost" should peer within to 
learn the effect of his "hauntings." 

In making the dummy Jack used a brown fur 
cap for the head, a glimpse of which under an old 
hat looked remarkably like his own brown head ; 
a collection of old overalls and record-books clev- 




erly arranged formed the body, and a pair of 
shoes stuffed with wads of newspaper, the feet. 


When over all he threw his overcoat, the imi- 
tation was complete ; and chuckling at the sight 
of "himself" asleep, Jack lost no time in slipping 

Tiptoeing to the window whose latch he had 
loosened, he softly raised it, listened, and climb- 
ing through, dropped noiselessly to the floor. 
Feeling his way in the darkness amid the bales 
and boxes, he reached a nook he previously had 
noted, and settling clown, prepared to await the 
appearance of the specter. 

Scarcely had he made himself comfortable 
when from the direction of the big packing-case 
came the sound of a screw-driver. A moment 
after came a noise as of a board being carefully 
shoved aside, then a step on the floor. At the 
same moment there was the sputter of a match, 
and peering forth, Jack momentarily made out a 

thin, clean-shaven face bending over a dark lan- 
tern. But quickly he drew back with a start of 
fright as the man turned and 
came directly toward him. 

A few feet from him, 
however, the intruder halted, 
and again peering out, Jack 
discovered the lantern, closely 
muffled, on the floor, and be- 
side it the dim figure of the 
man, working with his hands 
at a plank. The plank came 
up, and laying it aside, the 
stranger stepped down into 
the opening, recovered the 
lantern, and disappeared. 

"Now what is he up to?" 
asked Jack. 

From the station platform 
came the sound of footsteps. 
Jack started, listened a mo- 
ment, and uttered a low ex- 
clamation : "Well, I am a dolt. 
"Why he is simply out be- 
neath the platform making 
sounds against the under 
side of the planks, probably 
with a stick !" he chuckled 
with amazement and amuse- 

Jack was still chuckling 
delightedly over this simple 
explanation of the mysteri- 
ous "walking" when the noise 
ceased and the light returned. 
On reappearing, the un- 
known dragged after him a 
long pole. As Jack watched 
him he laboriously raised the 
pole and began bumping and scraping it up and 
down the under side of the roof. 

Then, puzzled at the silence in the next room, 
the man placed his eye to a crack in the partition 
and peered through, listened, and looked again, 
while Jack watched, silently laughing. At last 
satisfied, the man turned and threw a shaft of 
light up toward the wires of the loop. 

"Now!" said Jack beneath his breath. "Have 
I guessed it ?" 

But, to his disappointment, after a momentary 
debate the "ghost" muttered, "If he 's asleep, 
what 's the use ?" and catching up the pole, re- 
turned with it to the hole, thrust it down through, 
replaced the plank, and at once turning his atten- 
tion to the freight, selected a box, and began 
opening it. 

For several hours the unsuspecting freight- 

come our ! 




robber worked. He moved the plunder into his own 
box, and crept in after. Again came the sound of 
the screw-driver— and the robbery was completed. 

At once Jack crept from his hiding-place, and 
back to the window, dropped out, and set off on 
the run for the boarding-house. And twenty 
minutes later he returned with the freight-shed 
foreman and several freight-hands. 

Entering by the door, he led them directly to 
the robber's box. Sharply the foreman kicked 
it, and shouted: "Hello, in there! Your game is 
up, my friend! Come out!" 

There was no response, and he drew his re- 
volver. "Come, open up quick, or I '11 shoot!" 

And a moment after, the Midway Junction 
"ghost" stepped dejectedly forth and gave him- 
self up. 

"Fine work, my boy! Fine!" ticked the chief 
despatcher when Jack reported the capture and 
the final clearing up of the mystery. "The only 
drawback is, they may want to take you from the 
telegraph force now and make you a detective. 
But we won't let you go. We want you our- 
selves," the chief declared. 


Daisy and Dorothy live on a big farm. One around the corner harnessed to an' old perambu- 

day they received a baby pig as a gift, and they lator with a queer-looking arrangement of rope 

immediately began his education. Piggy learned and twine, the handiwork of his small mistresses, 

almost as fast as he grew, and his owners planned helped, of course, by a big, kind brother and the 


to surprise Papa on his birthday. When the 
morning arrived, they slipped away to Bouncer's 
pen before the rest of the family had finished 
breakfast, and when Papa finally appeared on the 
porch, the pig— a big fellow now— came trotting 

gardener. Then he was put through several other 
tricks, and Papa was so pleased that he got up a 
surprise of his own soon afterward, and presented 
the delighted twins with the real leather harness 
and comfortable little cart shown in the picture. 



Author of "A Son of the Desert" 

Chapter XIII 


Our friends followed the stern officer (a khalifa 
or lieutenant) out of the sok, and entered the town. 

Through several narrow, poorly paved streets 
the resplendent khalifa led the way, then through 
a beautifully carved gateway, and now they found 
themselves in the kasbah, the palace and strong- 
hold of the sherif. Through a large courtyard 
they advanced, passing squads of well-equipped 
Sudanese soldiers, and under an arch, and then 
they found themselves in a smaller court, or patio, 
paved with green and white tiles, and with a foun- 
tain in the center, and an arcade running entirely 
around the courtyard, in whose "horseshoe" 
arches hung silken curtains of cream and gold, 
and green and gold. 

From one of these arches the gorgeous curtain 
was now pushed aside, and, attended by several 
guards, a tall, dark man advanced, having white 
hair and beard, and dressed in the richest possible 
Moorish garments. In addition to the usual thin 
undergarments of the country he wore a fine 
light-blue jelebeeah, and, outside this, a very deli- 
cate white jelebeeah, and outside this came a 
cream-colored, cloud-like haik ; on his head was a 
large turban, dotted with tiny green and gold 
crescents, and fastened in front with a glittering 
crescent made of rare gems. 

Evidently this was the sherif, Moulai el Tayib, 
who could trace his lineage back, through an un- 
broken line of sherifs, and through AH, a nephew 
of Mohammed the Prophet, to the Prophet him- 

He was an impressive figure as he came for- 
ward and with much native grace pronounced 
the salutation, "Salaam Aleikoum." 

A light wicker table being brought, and red 
silken cushions with golden tassels, the sherif 
and Achmed seated themselves, while all the 
others, including Ted, remained standing. Ach- 
med kept up a steady stream of talk, in explana- 
tion and praise of his learned young friend, and 
intimated that he had been so long studying in 
strange lands, among the roumis (foreigners, 
pagans), that he had really lost his facility in 
speaking the Moorish tongue (which is a dialect 
of Arabic). 

Ted now went through some of his "wonders," 
feeling, as he afterward said, like a showman at 

a country circus,— but determined to carry it all 
through, and aid Achmed as much as possible in 
his daring and difficult mission. 

The first "wonder" was the one with the lens; 
and one of the guards, under orders of the sherif, 
got a concentration of sun-rays on his hand 
which made him jump, as much in surprise as 

Then the sherif, after expressing interest, said 
to Achmed, with a slight show of impatience : 
"This learned young man is not only a thaleb, 
but a thabib [a doctor]. Is it not so?" 

"It is even so," replied Achmed, as calmly as he 

"He is the possessor of powers of healing, also, 
as well as of arts of magic?" 

"You speak words of wisdom, O Descendant of 
the Great Prophet," was Achmed's response ; but 
he felt anxious, because of the note of impatience 
and irritation which he detected in Moulai el 
Tayib's voice. 

"Very good," was the great man's sharp com- 
mand. "Now let him exercise his healing art." 
And saying this, he clapped his hands as a signal, 
and through an archway came four men, bearing 
a sumptuous litter, or couch, slung on poles, upon 
which half reclined a young man. 

The expression of anxiety and affection with 
which Moulai el Tayib greeted this group made 
clear to Ted why he had been summoned to the 
kasbah ; it was not mere curiosity which had led 
the proud, stern old sherif to send for him, but 
this young man — a son of the sherif he was, and 
closely resembling his father— was seriously ill ; 
his face was even now convulsed with pain; and 
he, Ted Leslie, a mere novice in the art of Aes- 
culapius, must match his skill against some un- 
known disease. 

Ted and Achmed both were alive to the critical 
nature of their situation. 

The young man, Moulai Idris ben Tayib ( Moulai 
Idris, son of Tayib) was so ill that he gave little 
heed to his surroundings ; there was a flushed 
look about the face, and a dullness of the eyes, 
which indicated fever; and the strained and anx- 
ious expression of his features indicated pain. 

Ted Leslie advanced toward his patient, and 
laid his hand quietly on the young man's fore- 

Upon that act the father sprang forward— now 
openly showing that he was greatly wrought up— 






and grasped, as in a vise, the young thabib's 
shoulder. "He is my son," he exclaimed, in a 
hoarse whisper, "my first-born and well-beloved; 
it is at the peril of your life, learned youth, that 
you attempt your wonders of healing; if you do 
the young man harm— yea, even if you do not 
bring good to him — " Here he whirled his arm 
in the air and snapped his fingers, which symbolic 
act was understood by our young doctor to mean 
that the life of Ted Leslie of Lexington, Massa- 
chusetts, would be snapped short in a second's 

Then Achmed saw his opportunity ; Ted said, 
afterward, that the same idea was in his own 
mind, only he was restricted by his imperfect 
Arabic. "May the honored sherif of Wezzan and 
his son live long!" began the shrewd young Bed- 
ouin. "But this threat held over the head of the 
skilful young thabib is not just. It carries a 
sting, but no honey ; it implies a penalty, but offers 
no reward; it is unequal." 

The white-headed old descendant of the Prophet 
of Mecca looked at Achmed as if he would pierce 
him with his eye-glances, as with twin daggers. 
A frown gathered on his dark-brown forehead, 
and he seemed a person not used to such plain 
words from anybody. 

Then his glance passed to his son's pain-racked 
form, and he drew a long breath, and said : 
"Speak! What further is in your heart?" 

"This," replied Achmed, boldly confronting the 
powerful prince of Islam, and meeting his gaze 
without cringing or quailing. "There must be 
just and equal terms: if the learned thabib fails — 
well, he understands; but if he succeeds, if he 
rebukes the spirits of pain, and brings ease and 
peace, then he has a request to make, a boon to 

Moulai el Tayib drew back a step or two, as if 
with surprise, and perhaps intending refusal. 
Then his eyes again sought the writhing form on 
the litter, and he exclaimed : "The thabib may ask 
what he will, and he shall have it ; what does he 

Again Achmed matched his cool sagacity 
against the keen but anguished spirit of the old 
sherif. "He will state his request after your son 
has thanked him and thanked you for bringing 
him here." 

It was good diplomacy for a Bedouin lad, this 
turn in the colloquy ; and the confident suggestion 
of ease and recovery for his son impressed the 
father. "Let him proceed," he exclaimed. "His 
wish, whatever it is, — and your two faces tell me 
that it is not to be an extravagant one, — shall be 
granted; yea, it is already granted; I pledge my 

Then Achmed made one more move in his game 
of diplomacy. "You give your pledge, O holy 
son of the holier Prophet," he said, in a calm, 
even, yet determined tone. "Promise it, then, by 
the beard of the Prophet !" 

The old sherif actually turned pale ; for a 
moment the cruel light, which Ted had noticed on 
meeting him, glared in his sunken eyes. Then a 
groan from the litter made him clench his two 
hands in sympathy and helplessness ; and, upon 
that, he wheeled about, faced toward Mecca, 
bowed his head thrice, and said: "By the 
Prophet's beard I promise it." 

Chapter XIV 


Certainly the situation had been tense enough 
at the beginning; but the tension had gradually 
increased all through the interview. It could 
become no greater without some explosion ; and 
Achmed nodded encouragingly to Ted, who had 
understood what was being said, and the Ameri- 
can lad summoned all his self-control, and began 
examining his patient. 

He tried the young Moor's pulse ; he looked at 
his tongue (although with difficulty, because of 
the sick lad's restlessness) ; and he tested his 
temperature with a clinical thermometer. The 
temperature was above one hundred; his pulse 
was much accelerated ; and his breathing was 
also faster than is normal. There could be no 
doubt that he was in a high fever ; but what 
was its nature? 

Carefully Ted examined the head and neck 
for injuries, and was about to draw down the 
garments from the shoulders, for further ex- 
amination, when the keen old sherif, divining 
his purpose, advanced, lifted aside the lower 
folds of the jelebeeah, and laid bare his son's 

One glance at it and Ted knew the cause of 
the fever, the stupor, and the pain. It was a 
wound on the outside of the leg, about two inches 
above the knee ; it had been received from the 
tusk of a wild boar : the young man's horse had 
fallen during a boar-hunt, and the hunted boar 
had turned upon his hunter. 

The wound was in a deplorable condition, 
surgery being so extremely primitive in Morocco 
that four fifths of the persons who have flesh 
torn or bones fractured die of their injuries. 

Ted had not studied his medical books to no 
purpose. He saw plainly what he must do, or 
try to do ; he hardly dared think of what would 
happen to Achmed and himself if he failed. But 
he knew that he had, in his precious little 




packet of druggist supplies, one bottle containing 
an alkaloid of coca, which, when applied to the 
injured leg, would soon dull the tissue, and en- 
able him to work upon it without giving pain to 
the patient. 

So he applied the alkaloid, carefully, gently, 
with a tuft of soft cotton ; during several minutes 
he did this, and found the inflamed surface be- 
coming less and less sensitive to his touch. 
Finally the young patient did not shrink in the 
least as Ted worked ; and now, deftly, with a 
keen knife, thoroughly cleansed, he performed a 
very simple operation on the wound that had 
caused the fever and stupor. Ted dealt with it 
exactly as if it had been a troublesome boil — and 
he had suffered from several of them, himself, 
a few years before— while the Moorish atten- 
dants looked eagerly on, and the sherif stood by, 
anxious yet hopeful. All of them knew how 
painful such treatment would be under ordinary 
conditions; they knew how sensitive all that red, 
angry tissue usually would be ; but this young 
thabib, this young "Wizard," had been able to 
charm away the pain in a manner wholly mar- 
velous to them. 

The joy of the old sherif was touching; he 
clasped his son's hand; and gazed into his eyes 
with deep affection ; his son was given back to 
him, free from pain, and able to talk calmly of 
the relief he felt ; and the old Moor impulsively 
embraced Ted and Achmed in a most friendly 
and grateful fashion, and again said prayers to 
Allah, bowing his forehead quite to the ground. 

So far their plans had worked well at the 
kasbah of Wezzan. But now came the delicate 
matter of presenting their request, about which 
— although it had been nominally granted before- 
hand— Achmed had some misgivings. "He is like 
most of these Moors," said the young Bedouin, 
as he and Ted paced slowly up and down the 
courtyard. "He has two very opposite sides; on 
one side he is courteous and friendly, but on 
. the other he is treacherous and cruel. I hope 
that when he learns about us and our mission 
he will stand by his promise, and give his support 
and influence to our side and Great Britain, 
instead of standing with Russia. You, Ted, 
must remember clearly what the exact purpose 
of our journey is; for you are the one to ask 
the favor, because you have worked this cure 
upon his son, and to you he is particularly grate- 

Ted nodded, and responded in a low tone : "I 
understand, Achmed, as you have explained it 
to me. Great Britain wishes a defensive alliance 
with the Sultan, and certain commercial rights, 
and desires that he reject all offers from the 
Vol. XXXVII. -102. 

European powers, especially Russia; the details 
and specifications are written out on your parch- 
ment girdle, in that invisible ink, and are intended 
for the eyes alone of Kaid McKenzie, who is a 
Scotsman, a friend of Lord Cecil Seymour's, and 
is general-in-chief of the Sultan's military forces. 
Is all that correct?" 

"Quite so," replied Achmed, gravely. "And 
here returns the sherif, having placed his conva- 
lescent son in his apartment. We must now make 
our attempt." 

So the diplomatic interview was begun. Ted 
and Achmed together, courteously supplementing 
each other, informed the proud old descendant of 
the Prophet about their respective races and their 
joint mission. It was a delicate and difficult mat- 
ter to reveal to him that they had deceived him 
in a measure; but the help and relief rendered to 
the young sherif were evident and satisfying. 
Our young friends put their trust largely in that 
one fact. 

When Achmed and Ted had revealed the secret 
of their races and their purpose, and had re- 
minded their august listener of his promise, he 
replied promptly : "What I have promised I 
have promised, and will fulfil it. You ask me 
to speak my word to the Sultan, through you, in 
the interests of Great Britain, and to send you 
safely on your journey to Fez. It shall be done." 

This he declared in so many words ; but his 
restless eyes were perplexing to our young 
iriends, and seemed to indicate something dif- 
ferent from the words. "When will you depart?" 
he asked, almost with deference; but it was this 
very supple sort of deference which made Ted 
and Achmed suspicious. 

"It is our wish to set out to-morrow morning," 
replied Ted; and the old man bowed several times 
in apparent approval. 

They were now shown to a spacious and cool 
apartment in the kasbah, and two slaves made 
ready to bathe them; but Achmed, having no 
wish to expose the parchment band around his 
waist, preferred to attend to his own ablutions, 
as did Ted also. 

Achmed and Ted found themselves somewhat 
restricted by the pomp and ceremony of the 
sherif's castle and court ; but they yielded on every 
side, wondering only what might lie behind all 
these attentions. They had at first thought to 
depart before night; but they felt sure that the 
wily old Moor would not allow this, for he 
would wish to see how much permanent improve- 
ment in strength and health his son made. 

At dawn our young friends were astir, and 
were annoyed to see that hardly anybody else 
in the kasbah had awakened. There was a 




vexatious delay ; then some slaves brought break- 
fast ; then, when Ted asked to see the young 
Moor, his patient, there was more delay ; but at 
last the sick youth was brought out into the 
court. His recovery was progressing rapidly ; 
all his symptoms were favorable, and he ex- 
pressed deep gratitude. 

Ted dressed the wound, and the patient was 
borne back into his apartment. Then followed 
more long waiting. "He promised ; he certainly 
did," asserted Ted, speaking of the old sherif. 

"He did indeed," replied Achmed, knitting his 
brow ; "and by a solemn Moslem formula, too : 
the beard of the Prophet— his name be praised ! 
But— who can tell what is written!" 

The day dragged on. A noon meal was 
served them. They asked to see the sherif, and 
were told that he had gone out of Wezzan to 
restore order in a neighboring village ; he would 
return at nightfall. 

"Achmed," exclaimed Ted, with sudden reso- 
lution, and pausing in their walk up and down 
the tiled court, "I think we must adopt some 
bold course of action. I don't believe we will 
ever get away unless we do something; at least 
not until that Russian Petrovsky has seen the 
Sultan and won him over, and has come here 
and interviewed the sherif ; and that would 
utterly defeat our plans. Achmed, shall I try 
a little more magic on the treacherous old chap? 
Will it be safe?" 

After a moment's reflection Achmed answered : 
"I think that no other choice is given us. What 
is the plan of 'The Young Wizard of Morocco?' " 
And a faint smile lightened his face. 

"Well, you trust me," was Ted's reply. "You 
get hold of the slippery old fellow, and I believe 
I can bring him to terms; although he knows 
that you are a Bedouin, from Egypt, and that 
I am an American, he has no reason to doubt 
my powers of magic ; and I think I can shake 
him up, if we can get at him." 

"Agreed!" said Achmed; and he went at once 
and gave a sharp, stern message to a black atten- 
dant near the gate. 

The message was efficacious. In five minutes 
the sherif sent word that he would give them 
audience in his inner "court of judgment" at 
the end of an hour. And when the hour had 
passed— slowly indeed for our anxious young 
friends — they were summoned by two of the 
armed guards. 

This "court of judgment" they found to be a 
long, gloomy, windowless apartment, half roofed 
over, with many beautiful rugs upon the floor, 
and a divan around the walls, upon which many 
exquisite shawls were laid. 

"I have only the wish," began Ted, coolly, 
when the formal greetings were over, "to reveal 
to the holy son of the most holy Prophet what 
will take place in his dominions if we, his 
guests and the holders of his pledge, go not 
forth on our journey ere the sun looks over the 
rim of the world to-morrow morning." - 

Having already carefully prepared himself 
and his chemical materials, he now asked for 
two glass jars, or vessels of some sort suitable 
for holding water. And in a few moments two 
were brought. 

He now, with many mysterious gestures, and 
some solemn repeating of the Greek alphabet 
for a magic formula, half filled these jars with 
water which was brought for him ; and into one 
of these jars of clear water he poured a small 
quantity of colorless liquid from one of two 
small bottles taken by him from the medicine- 

The liquid thus poured in looked like water, 
and but slightly discolored the pure water in 
the jar; but it was really a very condensed 
solution of tannin. Then into the other jar he 
poured, from another bottle, a small portion of 
a liquid, which was really a strong solution 
of chlorid of iron. Then he made mysterious 
passes over the two jars, and, with as fierce an 
expression as his usually good-natured face 
could assume, he rattled off more of the Greek 
alphabet, in stern denunciation, using also the 
Arabic words for "sun" and "darkness" and 
"death" with great freedom. 

Achmed had caught the meaning of the situa- 
tion, although he by no means grasped its 
chemical details; also Ted had coached him as 
to his part in the ceremony; and he now gave 
all the aid he could by expressions of fear and 
awe, and by gestures of alarm. As for the old 
sherif, ignorant and superstitious 'as he was, 
and a firm believer in jinns (spirits), he showed 
much concern and even terror, as the weird 
situation grew upon him. 

Finally Ted, in a loud tone and with sonorous 
declamation, recited "The boy stood on the 
burning deck," etc., which, being in excellent 
English, and with good rhyme and rhythm, was 
as impressive as Greek to Moulai el Tayib. And, 
as Ted recited, he poured the clear liquid of one 
jar into, the clear liquid of the other; and the 
result was— a solution which was as black as 
ink ; in fact, it was ink of a sort. 

Then Achmed, turning to the astonished and 
trembling sherif, who kept glancing up and be- 
hind him as if expecting some terrible spirit or 
demon to grasp him in his claws — Achmed de- 
clared, with dignity and majesty: "Thus shall 




it be in all your land, O Descendant of the 
Prophet. If your pledge is not fulfilled, the 
waters of your streams and rivers, of your 
springs and cisterns, shall all be turned into the 
blackness of death, bringing doom upon your 
race and destruction upon 
your people." 

The effect was powerful 
upon the credulous and cruel 
old Moor ; he grew pale, and 
he trembled violently; he 
tried to speak, but his tongue 
would not serve him. Where- 
upon he beckoned to a special 
attendant near at hand— a 
sort of scribe— and gave him 
some order. 

The scribe went out, and 
when he returned, he put into 
Ted's hand a small parch- 
ment roll, which must have 
been already prepared, but 
which the wily old sherif was 
holding back, for purposes 
best known to himself. 

Ted and Achmed, with 
great dignity, glanced through 
the small but important docu- 
ment. It was a simple, clear 
statement, in Arabic, to the 
Sultan, that the sherif of 
Wezzan gave his sanction to 
the treaty with Great Brit- 
ain. And at the bottom was in- 
scribed — drawn and painted 
beautifully by hand— a seal: 
a green crescent moon, a 
symbol of Moslem power 
since the days of Othman of 
Constantinople ; and when 
joined to the sherif's name, 
as now, it was a pledge which 
no sherif of Wezzan had ever 
been known to break. 

The dramatic interview 
closed. Moulai el Tayib 
was tremendously frightened. 
And he hastily informed 

Achmed and Ted that they need not wait until 
the morrow ; they could depart, if they wished, in 
one hour ; camels and guards would escort them 
one day's distance on their journey. 

"Evidently the old boy is about frightened 

to death," remarked Ted, as he and Achmed 
returned to the courtyard. "The road seems to 
be clear enough for us. Shall we start to-night? 
Or shall we — " 

"To-night! to-night!" interrupted the shrewd 


Bedouin lad. "W r e must set forth to-night. The 
double-faced old Moor may alter his mind in 
twelve hours. And I do not believe he will 
wholly let go his cruel grasp on us even now; 
we shall see ; we shall see." 

(To be continued.) 

I T!V STHvnZ Jj 


Molly and Polly are twins, that is clear, 

And no one can tell them apart, I fear ; 

The worst of it is, you can never ask whether 

The one is the other, for they 're always together ! 




Sounds so easy when you hear 'em 
Tellin' how to catch a bird; 

Time an' time again I 've listened,— 
Simplest way you 've ever heard. 

First you catch the little songster, 
But you must have salt near by; 

If 't is wet you need not test it, 
For it must be nice and dry. 

On his tail put just a little, 

Then you have him, quick as wink. 
Do exactly as I tell you, 

You will catch him,— I don't think. 





Author of " The Lost Column," " The Lost Empire," etc. 

Chapter XVIII 

"mr. barton boothby" at home 

The Vicomte looked round with a smile of sat- 

"Here," said he, "we shall be able to arrange 
matters — amicably." 

"But not a word until you 've handed over the 
money!" cried Jerry. 

At that the Vicomte slipped his hand into his 
pocket ; and, drawing it out, buried the table in a 
flood of paper notes. 

Tinsell's skinny hand shot out like the claw of 
an owl. But Jerry Abershaw gave him a push 
that sent him across the room. 

"Hands off, old friend !" cried he. "The most 
of this belongs to me." He then gathered the 
notes together with the greatest respect and care. 
Many of these were the assignats that had been 
issued by the French revolutionary authorities. 
They were next to worthless, and two years later 
were called in at a four thousandth part of their 
original value. Jerry may probably have sus- 
pected this, for he took more particular stock of 
such of the notes as were payable on the Bank 
of England, and, evidently deeming these suffi- 
cient wage, wasted no words and said nothing in 

"Where 's the money for your lodging, Jerry?" 
pleaded Tinsell, with a feeble attempt at indepen- 
dence, keeping at a safe distance from the high- 
wayman, nevertheless. 

"Here," answered Jerry, as he handed three 
of the assignats over to Tinsell, and pocketed all 
the rest. 

The old man lifted the papers, one after the 
other, up to his only eye. 

"Domaines—nationaux?" he spelled out. 
"What 's all this about?" 

"Payable au porteur," threw in the Vicomte. 
"Pay the bearer." 

"Yes, exactly; but who 's going to pay me in 
London?" cried Tinsell, more than a little 

"My good friends," cried the Vicomte, rising 
to his feet, "we must not quarrel among our- 
selves. I give you my word, the assignats are 

"Do you hear that, Tinsell ?" cried Jerry. 
"These are real money. They are good." 

Tinsell said nothing, but there was a malicious 
light in his only eye. 

"Well," asked the Vicomte at last, after a pause 
of full half a minute, "and what news?" 

"I came back from Colchester yesterday," said 
Jerry. "The girl is still unmarried, and the ma- 
rine, as far as I could discover, has gone back 
to the wars. More than that, I traveled up with 
the son and a friend of his: a bright pair of 
youngsters, of very divergent tastes. The one 
talked of nothing but sunsets ; and the other ex- 
pressed the greatest interest in your humble and 
obedient servant." Here the highwayman paused 
to make the profoundest of bows. "Had I known 
he was coming to London," he continued, "it 
might have saved me a very unprofitable journey, 
for I got no more than five pounds on fifty miles 
of road, lamed my horse, and was obliged to pay 
my own fare back. But the lads were highly en- 
tertaining, so much so that I treated them both 
to a meal !" 

"Ah !" cut in the Vicomte. "Impulse again ! 
You have a warm heart, a truly generous disposi- 

"Fiddlesticks !" observed the other. "They 've 
both got more money about them than they know 
rightly what to do with. Mr. Packe dines with 
me to-night at Old Slaughter's; and after dinner 
I '11 lighten him of his far too overweighted purse 
in Leicester Fields." 

"I see," smiled the Vicomte. "You will repay 
yourself, as it were. And now let us get down to 
business. You are willing to assist me again, I 

"If you 're equally willing to pay." 

The Vicomte waved his hand. "You have just 
had proof," said he, "that I am as good as my 

"Maybe," said Jerry, with a shrug. "But I 
don't much fancy this French paper money of 
your lordship's. The Bank of England 's good 
enough for me." 

"As you like," said the other. "It is all the 
same to me." 

"Well, then, what 's the game ? Another inva- 
sion?" And the highwayman cocked his head, 
and smiled. 

The Vicomte jumped from. his chair, and began 
to pace the room. 

"If there 's a difficult thing in this world," said 




he, "it is to kill two birds with one stone. I am 
resolved never to try it again. For the future 
I have one aim, and one aim only. You say the 
old man is alone with his daughter. Very good. 
Our task will be supremely easy. There are sev- 
eral men-servants, of course ; but I know their 
ways. The butler would hold up his hands if you 
pointed a darning-needle at him. If necessary, 
we can again enter the house. I have a duplicate 
key of the little side door, on the path that leads 
to the shrubberies. There is neither lock nor bolt 
on the inner side." 

He was very excited. His face was livid, and 
his eyes were hot and bright as living coals. He 
could not stand still, but restlessly paced the room. 

"I ride to the east coast before the end of this 
week. Since Yates has failed, I must find this 
man Leake to carry me over to France. Leake 
lives in Ramsey. You will meet me at the King's 
Arms at Frating, on the main Harwich road, at 
six in the afternoon on the twentieth of July. I 
give you that amount of time, since Leake may be 
at sea. I know of no one else I can trust, and 
intend to run no risk. That is all. The twentieth 
of July. You will not forget?" 

"I 'rr. your man," said Jerry. "And now I must 
be off. Tinsell, leave off sulking, and open the 

Without a word, the old man shuffled across 
the room, touched the spring, and slid the panel 

"A most charming residence," threw in the 

"At times," said Jerry, "more than a handy 

"Past a doubt," said the other. "I find it so 
myself. Tinsell has a disguise for me: a black 
beard, a black wig, and a black cloak — of impene- 
trable black. I am here as an Austrian. French- 
men being unpopular in England at the present 
time, my identity must not be discovered. After 
the mismanagement of our last affair, I am 
wanted as much as you." 

"Then," said Jerry, "stick to the Olde House 
in West Street, highly recommended by Mr. 
Louis Jeremiah Abershaw and all the leading and 
cultured gentlemen of the road. Tinsell will 
look after your lordship, and there 's plenty of 
room for yourself and any other acquaintances 
you may have brought with you from France. 
This room will hold about ten, and there 's an- 
other one, the same size and furnished with equal 
taste, on the other side of the passage. I am sure 
Tinsell will do his best for you. He 's a clever 
old crow, is Tinsell; he could disguise a parish 
beadle so that his own wife would never know 
him. And I 've shown you how to pay the rascal : 

a few of your worthless assignats, my lord. So 
good day to ye both — good day." 

At that Jerry Abershaw swaggered out of the 

A moment afterward they heard the front door 

"An arrogant knave !" said the Vicomte. "But 
the very man I need." 

Old Tinsell so screwed up his ill-favored coun- 
tenance that he looked like a snarling hound. 

"I '11 get even with him !" he muttered. 

Slaughter's Coffee-House was situated on the 
west side of St. Martin's Lane. In those days 
St. Martin's Lane was one of the most important 
thoroughfares in that part of the town and one 
of the first of the London streets that were paved. 

The so-called Mr. Barton Boothby had men- 
tioned the hour of seven ; and Anthony Packe 
made his appearance at the coffee-house as the 
clock of St. Martin's Church struck the hour. 
But no sign of Mr. Boothby was to be seen. 

Anthony remained standing near the entrance. 
No one in the place took the slightest notice of 
him, except an extraordinary-looking individual, 
with a very black beard and very white teeth, 
who was seated at a table by himself, and who, 
raising an eye-glass to his eye, surveyed the new- 
comer in such critical and suspicious fashion that 
Anthony began to feel self-conscious, and shifted 
uneasily upon his feet. 

This man smiled at Anthony, and his teeth 
looked whiter than ever. The black beard seemed 
to take root in every possible part of his face. 
Indeed, there was very little of the gentleman 
to be seen, save his teeth and his beard and a long 
black cloak that reached to below his knees. 

As for the rest of the occupants, they were far 
too engrossed in a game of draughts, that was 
being played between two gentlemen, to pay at- 
tention to anything else. 

Anthony, finding himself so little at home in a 
place where every one seemed to know every one 
else, had turned to go, when Mr. Barton Boothby 
himself burst suddenly into the room. 

"Egad," cried he, "a thousand apologies to you, 
I 'm sure ! I was most deplorably put out by a 
hackney coachman who drove me to another 
quarter of the town." (The fact of the matter 
was that he had come face to face with a eon- 
stable whom he knew to be on his track, and had 
been obliged to reach Slaughter's by a very 
roundabout route.) 

Jerry then crossed to the landlord and ordered 
a table for himself and his friend on the other 
side of the room. A minute afterward they sat 
down to their meal; and though the host ex- 




pressed the greatest disapproval at every dish 
that was set before them, Anthony ate with a 
hearty relish, while he listened to the celebrated 
Mr. Barton Boothby's unceasing flow of talk. 

Mr. Boothby had just finished the famous story 
of how Mr. FitzGerald, having been blackballed 
at a certain club, had threatened each individual 
member of the committee with a duel, unless they 
elected him, and was laughing until he was 
obliged to hold his sides, when he broke off, and 
a look of the utmost astonishment came suddenly 
over his face. 

"Christopher !" said he, "it 's an uncomfortable 
little world !" 

Anthony turned his eyes in the direction of his 
gaze. And who should have entered the room but 
Roland Hood, accompanied by a very old man 
with lank, snow-white hair. The old man was 
leading by the hand a little girl. Roland saw 
Anthony at once, and came cheerfully toward 

"Why, Anthony !" he cried. And in a second 
Anthony had his friend by the hand. 

"Why, what brings you here ?" he asked. "I 
thought you were at Chatham." 

"So I was," said Roland. "I 've been sent up 
to the Admiralty on duty. Who 's your friend?" 

"Oh," said Anthony, turning to Jerry Aber- 
shaw, "Mr. Barton Boothby, whom I met on the 
coach. I am proud to have the honor of making 
you known to one another. Captain Roland Hood 
of his Majesty's Green Marines." 

"At your service, sir," said Jerry, with a sweep- 
ing bow. Roland also bowed. 

"Strangely enough," said he, "I, too, have just 
met an old traveling-companion." And he smil- 
ingly indicated the little girl. 

" 'Pon my body and soul," said Mr. Barton 
Boothby, "what a delightful and dainty infant, 
egad !" But the little girl, who was staring hard 
at the highwayman, was very white. Suddenly 
a look, partly of recognition and partly of fear, 
flashed upon the childish face. 

Jerry, who had seated himself again, got 
quickly to his feet. 

"There 's a friend o' mine in the street," said 
he ; and in two steps he was out of the door. As 
he passed the little girl, she screamed, and clung 
to the old man's coat. The man with the black 
beard, on the other side of the room, was laugh- 
ing merrily by himself. 

"What is the matter?" asked the old man, try- 
ing his best to comfort her. "What is it, my 

But the child was unable to speak. She was 
whiter than ever and trembling from head to foot. 
The gentlemen, who had finished their game of 

draughts, crossed the room to see what the com- 
motion was. Fear seemed to have thrown the 
child into a kind of convulsion, during which all 
she could do was to clutch violently at the tails of 
the old man's coat. In a very few seconds there 
was a ring of customers around her. Every one 
in the place had left his seat. The man with the 
black beard came forward; but he laughed no 
longer : he looked alarmed. One gentleman 
brought some water ; another offered her choco- 
late ; while a third, who was evidently a bit of a 
wit, suggested a pinch of snuff. At last she found 
her voice, coming out with a kind of a shriek. 

"Oh, Grandfather !" she cried. "It was he ! It 
zvas! It was !" 

"Who, my child? Who was it?" 

"The HIGHWAYMAN!" she cried. "He 's 
the man who robbed the Ipswich coach!" 

"Jerry Abcrshaw?" gasped the old man. 

"Yes !" cried the little girl. "The man who 
robbed the coach !" 

It was as if a thunderbolt had fallen into their 
midst. Those elegant draught-players went back 
like a bunch of ninepins, bowled over by a word ; 
the circle doubled its diameter, and one or two of 
the timid ones held to the tables for support. 

"Jerry Abershaw !" came almost simultaneously 
from every lip. There was not one of them who 
was not more than a trifle scared. 

"No, no !" cried the man with the black beard. 
"Gentlemen, I can put your fears at rest. That 
gentleman was Mr. Barton Boothby. I know 
him exceedingly well." 

"One of my best and most frequent customers," 
added the landlord. 

"You are mistaken, my dear," said the gentle- 
man who had offered the chocolate. "We do not 
have highwaymen in Slaughter's. We are men 
of taste and honor here." But the little girl only 
shook her head. 

"What makes you think it was the highway- 
man ?" the old man asked. 

"I know," she persisted. "I know it was." 

"But how?" 

"When I came in, I heard him laugh," she 
answered. "He laughed like that when he was 
going to shoot the officer, before I hit the pistol 
with my doll." 

"She 's right !" cried Roland, "the same laugh ! 
It comes back to me." 

"Tut !" cried the landlord, who was evidently 
solicitous for the world-wide fame of Slaughter's. 
"That is nothing; many men may laugh the 

"Yes," said the little girl, gazing as it were into 
space. "But all men who have the same laugh 
have not a big red scar under their chins." 



"You saw that ?" cried the old man. 

"I saw it on the coach, Grandfather," she said, 
having to some extent now got the better of her 
fears ; "and I saw it as he passed me when he 
left the room." 

"No, no," expostulated the man with the black 
beard. "This is all a hideous mistake !" 

" 'Gad, we '11 hunt him down !" cried one of the 

"What 's the use?" said the wit. "He 's gone." 

"But you, sir," cried the landlord, appealing to 
Anthony, "I take it you know Mr. Barton 
Boothby? You were his guest. You know this 
to be all a mistake?" 

"I believed that to be his name," faltered An- 
thony Packe. "He told me so." 

"He spoke falsely, then !" cried the old man, 
rapping his stick on the ground. "He lied; or 
how comes it he is gone?" Then the truth came 
upon Anthony Packe, something after the manner 
of a blow. 

"Two days ago," he got out, in jerks, "he 
stood before a looking-glass, in an inn on the 
Ipswich road, and said he would like very much 
to come face to face with Jerry Abershaw." 

Once more the circle widened, like a ring upon 
the surface of a pond around the place where a 
stone is thrown. The man with the black beard 
turned away and muttered under his breath, in 
French. "Ma foi !" said he. "I 'd rather lose 
my arm." 

"Egad !" cried some one. "Sure enough it 's 
the man !" 

They all went out upon the pavement ; but there 
was nowhere any sign of the highwayman to be 
seen. It would be as useless to search for the 
proverbial needle in a haystack as for Jerry 
Abershaw in all the length and breadth of Lon- 
don town. 

Suddenly three constables quickly came up St. 
Martin's Lane. They saw at once that there was 
some commotion abroad, for the bulk of Slaugh- 
ter's customers, in the middle of the road, were 
talking at one and the same time, in the highest 
state of excitement, throwing their arms in the 

In two words they had told the constables what 
was in the wind. 

"He 's the very man we are after," they an- 
swered. "Which way did he go?" 

That much nobody knew. No one had even 
noticed whether Jerry had turned to the right or 

One of the constables turned to his comrades. 
"Our only chance is to search the Olde House in 
West Street, Clerkenwell," said he. "What d' ye 
think, mates?" 

"Like as not he '11 be there," said the second 

"It 's worth trying, anyway," said the third. 

"Gentlemen," said the first, "we are about to 
search a house that we know this man frequents. 
I don't mind saying the place is a regular old 
trap. We shall be glad of all the help we can 

And thereupon the hunt of Jerry Abershaw 
began. In two minutes all were hastening east- 
ward, and St. Martin's Lane was empty, save for 
the man with the black beard under the lamp, 
showing his teeth as he hissed out a "ma foi !" in 

Neither Roland Hood nor Anthony Packe had 
guessed it, and even Jerry Abershaw himself had 
been deceived, but the teeth were those of Louis 
des Ormeaux, and the disguise— the black wig 
and the black beard— belonged to Tinsell, the 
landlord of the house whither they all were 

Louis des Ormeaux looked after them for an 
instant with a searching glance, and then took 
snuff, seeming to be deep in thought. 

"Yes, even at my own risk," said he, at length, 
"I must save this fellow, if I can. I need him ! 
I am not through with him !" 

At that he loosened his sword in its scabbard, 
and joined in the pursuit, setting off at a run. 

Though they all started off in a spirit of the 
greatest enthusiasm, the good gentlemen from 
Slaughter's very soon got tired of the chase. 
Before they were out of St. Martin's Lane, the 
ranks of the pursuers were greatly thinned. In 
Holborn many remembered that they had impor- 
tant engagements to keep and that it was still a 
considerable distance to Clerkenwell. As for the 
remainder, they were got as far as the Gray's 
Inn Road, when it suddenly occurred to one 
gentleman, who was getting exceedingly sore in 
the feet, that, after all, the highwayman might 
not be there. 

They pulled up to discuss the question. They 
thought that in all likelihood the gentleman with 
the sore feet was right ; and if the truth be told, 
they hoped he was, for none of them were now as 
brave as they had been. 

This last settled it. It was an impetuous age. 
Jerry Abershaw went out of their heads as 
quickly as he had entered; and they became pos- 
sessed with but one idea— to get back to Slaugh- 
ter's and play draughts. 

Meanwhile the three constables, accompanied by 
Anthony Packe, Roland Hood, the man with the 
black beard (who told them he was an Austrian), 
and one other gentleman— the sole survivors of 

Vol. XXXVII.— 103. 8-7 




a crowd of twenty — stood in the Gray's Inn Road, 
holding a council of war. They discussed the 
matter for several minutes ; and in the end it was 
decided to continue to search. Since, on two 
former occasions, Abershaw had somehow man- 
aged to escape from this house in Clerkenwell, it 
was arranged that Anthony and the Austrian 
should remain outside the front door, while one 
of. the constables and the other gentleman en- 

flocked to the West End, to amuse themselves _ 
after the boisterous fashion of the day, leaving 
the narrow city streets deserted and dark as 
pitch ; for the hanging lamps were few and far 
between, and people for the most part trusted to 
the linkboys to light them on their way. Gas 
had only just been invented, but, as yet, was 
utilized nowhere, save in a shop at the corner of 
Piccadilly, which, in consequence, was one of the 



tered an adjacent street and stationed themselves 
in the back yard of the Olde House. Thereby, if 
Abershaw were inside, escape was rendered im- 
possible; and, after giving the constable and his 
companion plenty of time to take their posts, 
Captain Hood and the two remaining constables 
were to enter the house, and search it from. roof 
to ground. All this was arranged in the Gray's 
Inn Road. Every one was armed with a brace of 
pistols and a sword ; and after engaging the ser- 
vices of two linkboys, the party set off at a 
steady pace. 

In those days the city by night was as dark and 
as silent as the grave. In the evenings all men 

most wonderful sights of the town. It was not 
for many years that the new invention was 
adopted in the houses of the nobility and richer 
merchants. But in 1795 the linkboy was the little 
king of London. Without his services, by night 
and in the fogs, strangers were unable to move a 
yard, and even Londoners themselves often had 
the greatest difficulty in finding their way about. 
In consequence, linkboys were indispensable to 
guide our little party safely through the labyrinth 
of narrow streets into the inky darkness of 

They found West Street with hardly a light in 
a window. There was no moon. A heavy wind 




was blowing, that whistled round the chimney- 
pots and sent large sheets of torn paper dancing 
along the street, flying into the light of the 
torches and back into the darkness whence they 
came, like white, ghostly specters hurrying 
through the night. 

As they approached the Olde House, they or- 
dered the boys to put out the torches, giving them 
orders to light them again as soon as the mem- 
bers of the party had entered the house. 

At the corner before the Olde House, the party 
separated, one constable and the gentleman going 
round to the parallel street. After waiting sev- 
eral minutes, at Roland's suggestion one of the 
linkboys was sent to see if the others were in 
their places. 

They waited for about a quarter of an hour. 
Then the boy returned. He had had some diffi- 
culty in finding the house, since they were all 
alike at the back. He had been obliged to try 
several. Finally he had found the constable and 
the gentleman directly at the back of the Olde 
House, with drawn swords and their pistols ready 
primed in their hands. Roland, who, as the 
holder of the King's commission, was the ac- 
knowledged leader of the party, told the boy to 
go back and stand by the constable, with flint and 
steel in readiness to light his torch, if so he was 
ordered to do. 

After waiting several minutes the rest of them 
set out, each one with a heart beating fast 'with 
expectation, until they came to the famous place 

Even in the darkness of the street, the Olde 
Flouse seemed to stand back from the other 
houses as something darker and more sinister 
than they all. There were no windows on the 
ground floor. A smooth, coal-black wall rose 
from the ground like an impenetrable sheet of 
steel, at the base of which they could just discern 
the outline of the door. It was brass-bound and 
of oak. It seemed to defy, and at the same time 
.invite, entrance; but the invitation was such as 
the spider gives to the fly. It was a dangerous- 
looking door. 

They tried it, and found it locked. At that 
one of the constables came forward with a crow- 
bar he had got from a house in Holborn. He was 
a powerful man, and almost a giant in stature. 
It was he who had acted as spokesman outside 
Slaughter's ; and with three blows he sent over 
the door, splintered from its hinges. 

Upon the instant he dropped the crowbar, and 
sprang forward into the passage, eagerly followed 
by his comrade, and Roland, with a relighted 
torch in one hand and his horse-pistol in the 

( To he c 

other. The noise of their boots upon the bare 
floor went echoing through the house. 

There was a flight of wooden steps before 
them, but no sign of a door on either side. Fast 
on each other's heels, they dashed headlong up 
the stairs. 

Upon the first landing they paused. Here 
there were three doors, obviously leading to sepa- 
rate rooms. Clearly, they must take them one 
by one. 

In two quick words it was decided that one con- 
stable should remain outside, while Roland and 
the other searched each room in turn. 

They entered the first. It was absolutely 
bare, destitute of furniture, and smelled of rats 
and straw. They looked in every corner and 
cupboard, but there was no sign of any one hav- 
ing entered it for years. 

They were about to enter the second, and the 
constable actually had his hand upon the handle 
of the door, when it was suddenly flung open 
from the other side, and a man in a black mask 
sprang forth like a tiger under their eyes. As 
quick as thought, he had caught the torch from 
Roland's hand, and dashed it into the constable's 

Then all was inky dark, and they heard him go 
down the steps, three or four at a time, laughing 
and calling to them to make themselves at home. 

"Look out !" shouted Roland. "Look out, be- 
low there, in the street !" 

The Austrian at the door drew his sword ; and 
Anthony Packe, though he little knew it, stood 
within an ace of his life. 

Roland groped about him for the torch, found 
it, and made off down the steps after the fugitive, 
with the constables following fast upon his heels. 
Anthony and the Austrian, they knew, were at 
the door. Assuredly, Jerry Abershaw was caught. 

But when Roland and the constables reached 
the end of the passage, Anthony and the Aus- 
trian—who was laughing— were ready to swear 
that no one had passed out. It was useless for 
Roland to protest that he had heard, if he had 
not actually seen, the man go down the stairs. 
They held firmly to their opinion: they had re- 
mained one on cither side of the doorway; they 
had not moved for an instant ; and no one had 
passed through since they had been there. 

There was nothing for it but to light the torch 
anew, and go back and search the house. The 
constable's face was burnt, but he was not seri- 
ously hurt. The man had come upon them so 
suddenly and unexpectedly that not one of them 
had had the time to fire. Fie had gone down the 
stairs like a cat over a garden wall. 





Author of " The Crimson Sweater," " Tom, Dick, and Harriet," " Captain Chub," etc. 

Chapter XIV 


The Saturday before Thanksgiving dawned bleak 
and gray and cold, and by three o'clock, for which 
hour the game between the School Team and the 
Independents was set, there was a biting north 
wind blowing across the field, and the heavy 
clouds were scurrying overhead. 

There was a hearty cheer for the Independents 
as that team trotted down from the gymnasium 
and squirmed through the line of impatient stu- 
dents, and a less enthusiastic one for the School 
Team when it followed a minute or two later. 
The teams warmed up for ten minutes, and then 
Mr. Osgood, who had accepted the office of 
referee, summoned the captains to the center of 

the field. Rob won the toss and took the east 
goal, and a minute later the play began. 

For the first few minutes the School Team had 
the better of it, the Independents' plunges at the 
line being stopped without great difficulty. Three 
downs failed to net the distance, and the ball went 
to the School Team on the opponent's fort)' yards. 
An attempt at the center brought no gain, and 
Law punted. Deering^ caught the ball on his 
fifteen yards and made ten across the field before 
he was downed, Evan interfering brilliantly for 
the runner. The Independents tried the School 
line again, and again lost on downs, this time by 
a bare half -yard. The School Team made first 
down with three plunges through the wings, and 
things looked bad for the defenders of the east 
goal. But on their fifteen yards the Independents 




held stubbornly and recovered the ball, and on 
third down Deering punted to mid-field. The 
ends were under the pigskin all the way, and 
Miller, School quarter, was downed for no gain. 
After that, for the rest of the twenty-minute half, 
the ball seesawed back and forth between one 
thirty-yard line and the other. 

The second half was different from the first, 
and the spectators knew that it was going to be 
from the very moment that the Independents got 
the ball on a fumble some three minutes after play 
started. Evan began to work the School's ends, 
sending the runner outside of tackle for gain 
after gain until Hopkins found his wits and sent 
the backs to the rescue. Then came a short for- 
ward pass, Deering to Powers, and a twelve-yard 
advance. Plunges at center helped but little, but 
Shaler got through right guard on a split-play 
for four yards. An on-side kick worked to per- 
fection, and, while the audience shouted wildly, 
the two teams lined up on the School's twenty- 
yard line. But a wide run netted no gain ; a 
plunge at right guard, with Shaler carrying the 
ball and the whole back-field behind him, realized 
only four yards ; and then Deering fell back for 
a try at goal. The pass was good, and the line 
held well enough, but the wind was too much for 
the kicker, and the ball went wide. 

School elected to put the ball in scrimmage 
from her twenty-five yards. Law and Simpson 
and Leary hammered the Independents' line for 
short gains, but although they were able to get 
by the forwards, the second defense piled them 
up. They made the distance once, and then, with 
three to go on third down. Miller tried a quarter- 
back run and was thrown by Brimmer for a loss. 

The Independents took up the march again, 
playing wide-open foot-ball and mingling line- 
plunges with forward passes, delayed runs, fake 
kicks, and other plays that made School's head 
swim. It was brain against brawn now, and in 
the end brain won. Duffield had given his team 
plays that Hopkins had never thought of and 
had n't the slightest idea how to meet. The for- 
ward passes succeeded time after time, and when, 
down on the School Team's thirty yards, Deering, 
standing back as though to try for a field-goal, 
passed the ball across to Rob, and Rob threw it 
straight down the field into Powers's waiting 
hands, there was no one near to stop the latter 
youth when he skipped nimbly over the goal-line 
and made the first and only score of the day. 

Rob kicked goal, and after that it was all up 
with the School Team. Hopkins put in sub after 
sub in the hope of stemming the tide of defeat, 
but all to scant purpose. In the last ten minutes 
the Independents seemed on the brink of a second 

touch-down after Evan had skirted the School's 
left end for a twenty-odd yard run. But on the 
first play, the ball being then on School's eighteen 
yards, Hover, who had taken Rob's place at left 
half, fumbled, and Reid fell on the ball. School 
punted out of danger, and time was called before 
the Independents were again within striking dis- 
tance of the opponent's goal-line. Science and 
team-play (and, perhaps, psychology!) had won 
the day. 

That evening representatives of the rival 
teams met in Mr. Osgood's study. Present were 
the instructors, Hopkins, Prentiss, Wellington, 
Rob, and Malcolm. Hopkins was depressed 
and discouraged, Prentiss silent and sullen. Hop- 
kins, however, was ready to abide by the results 
of the game, and, with Mr. Osgood acting as 
arbitrator, matters were soon settled. Coach 
Duffield was to have supreme authority. The In- 
dependent Foot-ball Association was to disband 
at a meeting to be held Monday evening, and the 
Independent First Team and substitutes were to 
join the School Team. Hopkins was to remain 
captain, but, since it was doubtful whether he 
would play in the Adams game save as a substi- 
tute for Koehler, Rob was to be field captain. 
Members of Hopkins's team would be used in the 
Adams game whenever practicable, and those 
who did not get into that contest but had played 
against Overbrook were to receive their letters. 
Prentiss was to remain manager and Malcolm 
was to be assistant manager until the next elec- 
tion was held. At the end of an hour the con- 
ference broke up quite amicably, both Hopkins 
and Prentiss being glad to retain their positions 
and realizing that the Independents had used 
them leniently. The school in general was well 
satisfied with the arrangement when it learned of 
it, the Independents claiming victory all along 
the line. Some of the less promising members of 
the Independent second squad were disappointed, 
since with the advent of the members of Hop- 
kins's team their chances of getting into the 
Adams game were spoiled. 

When Duffield arrived on Monday he found his 
hands full. He was anxious to strengthen his 
team wherever possible, and so spent a good deal 
of time, that might otherwise have been devoted to 
perfecting the team, in trying out various players 
from Hopkins's team. Hopkins himself was given 
a try at left guard, but did n't make a showing 
good enough to warrant his substitution for 
Koehler. Merrill did well at center in Jelly's 
place, but he lacked the other boy's accuracy at 
passing the ball back. In the end the only change 
made was to give James's place at left tackle to 
Tom Reid. The Second Team, however, saw 




numerous changes, and, as Duffield had n't the 
heart to dismiss any of the candidates at that late 
hour, a Third Team was formed. The rest of 
the afternoon's practice that day was spent in 
signal work. 

That evening the Independent Foot-ball Asso- 
ciation held its last meeting and, amid great en- 
thusiasm, voted to dissolve. Wellington and Rob 
and Pierce and several others made speeches and 
were cheered to the echo. And afterward the 
meeting resolved itself into a parade that made 
the round of the buildings and sang foot-ball 

On Tuesday there was a blackboard talk in the 
gymnasium before practice, and afterward Duf- 
field made the fellows a little speech : 

"Now, you fellows realize, of course," he said, 
"that foot-ball here this season is in a pretty 
ragged condition. I came up here largely as a 
favor to Langton, to coach his team. Now, at 
the last moment, I find that I 'm expected to take 
hold and put you fellows in trim to win from 
Adams. That 's a big order. If I had started in 
at the beginning of the season, it would be dif- 
ferent, but I did n't I 've never even seen Adams 
play, and all I know about her team is what I 've 
read in the papers. But here I am, and as I can't 
get out of it I '11 do my best. But you fellows 
have got to do your best, too. There are no two 
ways to that, I can tell you ! You 've got to 
buckle down and do a lot of hard work between 
now and Thursday, and when Thursday comes 
you 've got to go in and play like the very dickens 
if you expect to win. I 'd like to give you a lay- 
off to-morrow, but we can't afford it. Not only 
that, but there will be signal drill here to-night 
and to-morrow night at seven o'clock. Don't for- 
get that, please Every fellow must attend. 

"As near as I can learn, Adams has a rattling- 
good team. She 's met with only one defeat this 
season. She has five of last year's team with her, 
she has a good coach, and she has developed a 
coaching system that 's been working pretty well 
— as you fellows here at Riverport ought to 
know. Her line is slightly heavier than ours, and 
it 's just as quick. Her back-field is extremely 
good, and we 've got nothing on her there. And 
she 's got a quarter who is as good a general as 
there is on a school team to-day. So. team for 
team, it looks like a pretty even thing, with the 
odds slightly in favor of Adams. Of course on 
team-play she must be far more advanced than we 
are, for her men have been playing together for 
a full month, while our team, as it will line up 
to-day, has never played together. I 'm not try- 
ing to discourage you. We 're pretty well handi- 
capped, I own, but we 're not beaten. These plays 

we 've just gone over ought to help. Most of 
them are either quite new or are new variations 
of old plays. If you get so you can put them 
through right, I should n't be surprised to find 
that they bothered Adams a whole lot. Now it 
all depends on how you fellows take hold during 
the next two days. You must work hard and use 
your brains. I think we can learn a lot of foot- 
ball in two days if we make up our minds to it. 
Now, then, all out on the run." 

In obedience to instructions, Evan began prac- 
tising the new plays, and, although the Second 
knew them as well as the First, she could n't 
stop them. In three minutes of actual playing- 
time the First scored the only touch-down of the 
day, Shaler being slammed through the line for 
the final three yards. 

There was a good forty-five minutes of signal 
work in the gymnasium that evening, the players 
walking or trotting through the drill in canvas 
shoes. On Wednesday there was another long 
period of outdoor work in the afternoon and 
again signal drill at night. At the end Duffield 
spoke to them : 

"Well, fellows, work is over for this year. 
You 've taken hold, 'most every one of you, in 
just the way I hoped you would. You 've worked 
hard and conscientiously, and I think you 've 
learned a good deal. Just how much you have 
learned remains for you to show to-morrow. I 
can't call you a wonderful team, for neither you 
nor I have had time to work wonders, but I think 
if you '11 all play the best you know how to- 
morrow, the school won't be far disappointed in 

"I want you to go to bed early to-night; and 
don't think too much about the game. In the 
morning, if it 's a fair day, be out of doors as 
much as you can, but don't try to do much walk- 
ing. Keep quiet. If it 's stormy, get out for a 
little while and then settle down in your rooms 
and read or play games. Be careful of your eat- 
ing, too. Take a good breakfast and go light at 
luncheon. That 's all, I think. I '11 be on hand 
early to-morrow in case anything comes up. 
Keep up your spirits, a lot depends on that. Good 
night and good luck." 

Rob called for a cheer for the coach, and it was 
given with a will. 

It was very still. Through the window, from 
where he lay, Evan could see thousands of bright, 
frosty stars sparkling in the sky. That meant 
fair weather to-morrow, he told himself, and a 
dry field. Then his thoughts, in spite of his 
utmost endeavors, went to the game, and pres- 
ently he flopped over in bed and addressed the 




huddled form of his room-mate, seen dimly 
through the starlit gloom : 

"I say, Rob, in that number 13 play does Deer- 
ing start with you around left end or does he 
interfere for Shaler?" 

There was no answer. 

Chapter XV 



"Well, what do you think of that?" whispered 
Evan. "Oh, well, if he can sleep, I believe I can." 

It did n't seem that he really did sleep, for he 
was playing foot-ball in thought all night, but 
the next thing he knew Rob was calling to him, 
and the room was flooded with morning sunlight. 

"Come on, Riverport!" called Rob, and as he led 
the team onto the field, Northrup, of the seniors, 
sprang in front of the throng on the upper side 
of the field and, waving his 
light-blue megaphone adorned 
with the dark-green R, called 
for "A double cheer for the 
team, fellows, and everybody 
get into it !" 

"'Rah, 'rah, Riverport! 
'Rah, 'rah, Riverport! 'Rah, 
'rah, Riverport ! 'Rah, 'rah, 
Riverport ! 'Rah, 'rah, Riv- 
erport ! 'Rah, 'rah, River- 
port ! Team ! Team ! Team !" 
From across the battle-field 
came the long, slow cheer of 
the rival : "Adams ! Adams ! 
Adams ! 'Rah, 'rah, 'rah ! 
'Rah, 'rah, 'rah ! 'Rah, 
'rah, 'rah ! Adams ! Adams ! 
Adams !" 

Adams had won the toss 
and had chosen to receive 
the kick-off. Riverport lined 
itself across the turf; Powers 
at right end, Kasker at right 
tackle, Devens at right guard, 
Jell at center, Koehler at left 
guard, Reid at left tackle, 
Brimmer at left end, Kings- 
ford at quarter, Deering at 
right half, Langton at left 
half, and Shaler at full-back. 
"All ready, Adams? All 
ready, Riverport?" called the 

Hoyt of Adams raised his 
arm, Rob called "Ready!" 
and the whistle blew. 

Away sped the ball, far and 
high, turning lazily in flight, 
and off sprang the eager 
line. An Adams man gath- 
ered in the pigskin and started 
back. Powers sprang upon 
him and brought him down 
struggling. Adams lined up 
quickly and hurled her full-back at Jelly, but Jelly 
was stiffer than his name indicated, and there was 
small gain. The next play caught Reid napping, 
and the dark blue piled past him for five yards. 
With three to go, Claflin, the Adams quarter, 
skipped across and sent a forward pass to the 




left. The Adams left end tipped it with his 
fingers, before he was pushed aside by Powers, 
and finally fell upon it for a good ten yards' gain. 
The dark-blue flags waved gleefully along the 
south side. 

Again Adams made her distance, sending her 
backs into the line for short gains. Plainly Riv- 
erport was undergoing a spell of stage-fright, for 
the secondary defense failed to back up the for- 
wards as it should. Evan came running in and 
pounded Rob on the shoulders. 

"What 's the matter with you fellows?" he 
cried angrily. "Get in there ! Stop it right now ! 
Buck up, Rob!" Then he went running up the 
field again. Adams sent Bull, her star half-back, 
through between Devens and Kasker, but Deer- 
ing and Rob pulled him down before he was free 
of the line. "That 's the ticket !" yelled Evan, 
gleefully. "Nail 'em, Rob!" Adams tried another 
play at Jell and again failed to move that youth 
out of his tracks. Their left tackle fell back to 
punt, and Deering joined Evan up the field. The 
punt was high and long. "Mine !" called Deering. 
"Yours," responded Evan, cutting across in front 
of a charging Adams end. "To the right !" He 
threw himself in front of the enemy, and as they 
both went rolling over, Deering cleared them and 
started across the field. One, two, three white 
lines passed under his flying feet, and then he 
was in the midst of the enemy. He squirmed free 
once, but the next instant he was smothered on 
his thirty-three yards. 

"Our ball!" called Evan, running up. "Get 
up, get up! Kick formation! 12—14—36—58!" 
He glanced back to see that Deering was ready. 

Back sped the ball to Deering, and that youth 
took one step forward and booted the oval far 
down the field. Away raced friend and foe, but 
Brimmer, Riverport's left end, outdistanced all 
and was waiting when the ball settled into the 
arms of the Adams left half. Down they went 
together on Adams's forty yards. From there 
Adams worked the ball down to her opponent's 
forty-five yards. Most of the gains were made 
between Koehler and Reid or outside the latter. 
Adams played fast, putting the ball into play 
almost before Riverport could get into position. 
Time and again it was the back-field that stopped 
the runner when he was well through the line. 
On the forty-five yards Adams was caught hold- 
ing and was set back fifteen yards. A quarter- 
back run was tried with no success, and again 
the ball was punted toward Riverport's goal. 
Evan took it this time and managed to make a 
dozen yards along the side-line before he was 
pushed out. Again kick formation was called 
Vol. XXXVII.- 104. 

for, and again Deering punted a good forty-five 
yards. Adams's quarter missed the catch, but 
got the ball on the bound before Powers threw 
himself fiercely upon him. 

"Now, then, let 's take it away from them !" 
cried Rob. "Get down there, Reid ! Play low, 
every one ! Spoil this ! Pile them up !" 

With the ball near her thirty yards, Adams 
drew a tackle out of the line and sent a tandem 
at Devens with fair success. But a similar play 
on the other side of center was spoiled by Jelly, 
who threw himself in front of the interference 
and piled up the play. With six yards to go, 
Adams tried an on-side kick, but failed to recover 
it, and the ball was Riverport's on her adversary's 
fifty yards. 

"All right!" cried Evan, briskly. "Left forma- 
tion! 27—38—14—68! 27—38—14—68—7—" 

Back came the ball from Jelly. Evan turned 
and thrust it against Shaler's stomach, and that 
youth, with Deering and Rob behind, went 
through Adams's left guard for six yards. Riv- 
erport flags waved and Riverport voices cheered 

"Kick formation !" called Evan, and Deering 
dropped back and stretched his hands out for the 
ball. But the play was a "skin-tackle" on the 
left, and Rob got four yards and first down. But 
the Adams line stiffened then, and the next at- 
tempt was a failure, and so Deering punted 
toward the corner of the field. This time the 
quarter made a fine running catch and, eluding 
Brimmer, got over two white lines before Kasker 
reached him and pulled him down. Adams lined 
up almost on her fifteen yards, and, after one try 
at Reid which gave her a scant two yards, punted 
out of danger. Deering fumbled and finally fell 
on the bobbing pigskin on his forty-yard line, 
with half the Adams team on top of him. Time 
was called while he fought for his breath, and on 
the side-line Hinkley slipped off his sweater. 
But Deering was as good as new at the end of 
two minutes. Evan sent Rob outside of left 
tackle for three yards, and Shaler between right 
guard and center for two. Then Deering punted 
once more, and the Adams quarter ran back to 
his thirty-eight yards before he was downed. 

A forward pass netted eight yards for the dark 
blue, and then Claflin got away around Powers's 
end for ten more. Plunges at the line gave them 
another first down, and the ball was in River- 
port's territory again. The forward pass was tried, 
but the ball struck the ground, and Adams was 
penalized. A punt followed, and Deering caught 
the ball on the run and reeled off twenty yards 
through a close field before he was caught. Evan 
hammered the center of the Adams line for scant 




gains and then called Deering to the rescue. This 
time there was a hole in the Riverport line, and 
a big tackle rushed through in time to divert the 
ball as it arose from Deering's foot. The kick 
went short, and a wild scramble ensued, an Adams 
guard finally falling on the pigskin. For the rest 
of the half neither team succeeded in making a 
first down, and the ball was in the air most of 
the time, Deering gaining at least five yards on 
each exchange of punts. The period ended with 
the ball on Riverport's thirty yards in Riverport's 

There were fifteen minutes of cheering and 
singing, and then the teams came trotting back 
again. It was seen that Duffield had made one 
change in his line, Hopkins replacing Koehler at 
left guard. It was Adams's kick-off, and Rob 
made a clear fifteen yards before he was tackled. 
Again, much to the distaste of the Riverport sup- 
porters, Deering kicked on first down. That gave 
Adams the ball well inside her forty yards. She 
tried the mettle of Hopkins on the first play and 
did n't like the result. It was evident at once that 
that side of the line had been much strengthened, 
for Hopkins and Reid had played side by side all 
season and knew just how to help each other. 
A fake quarter-back run, with the ball going to 
left half for a plunge through the line, gave 
Adams a few yards, and then she was forced to 
punt. The ball went out of bounds at Riverport's 
forty-yard line. Evan called his signals while 
the pigskin was being taken in, and, almost before 
Adams had lined up, Jelly had passed and Shaler 
was squirming through between right guard and 
tackle. He shook off two tacklers, and then, with 
half the Riverport team hauling and pushing, 
kept his feet long enough to carry the ball a good 
twelve yards.. Riverport went crazy with delight 
along the side-line. Shaler was given the ball 
again, and this time made four yards before he 
was stopped. A scant yard by Rob outside of left 
tackle left five yards to go. Deering dropped 
back, Jelly passed well, and the right half ran out 
to the left and then threw across to Powers for 
twenty yards. It was a beautiful forward pass and 
took the ball to Adams's thirty-five yards. Deer- 
ing and Shaler each made three through the line, 
and Shaler was called on to make the rest of the 
distance, which he did on a split-play that fooled 
Adams nicely. With the ball less than twenty- 
five yards from the goal-line and directly in front 
of the posts, Deering tried a drop-kick which 
missed by a few feet only. 

Adams put the ball into play from scrimmage 
and found a weak spot on the right of Riverport's 
line, where Kasker was feeling the pace. Two 
tries through him netted eight yards, and a tan- 

dem on center gave three more. In the last play 
the Adams full-back was hurt, and Duffield seized 
the occasion to take out Kasker and put in Ward. 
Adams replaced the injured full-back with a fresh 
player, and the game went on. The ball changed 
hands frequently now, and Deering's punts were 
growing shorter. But so were those of Spring, 
the Adams kicker, and, observing this, Adams's 
coach took out his right half and put in a new 
man, who thereafter did most of the punting and 
was able to outkick Deering some five yards. 
Duffield responded by replacing Deering with 
Hinkley. Once Adams worked the ball down 
to Riverport's thirty-three yards and tried a for- 
ward pass to the corner of the field. But Brim- 
mer shouldered the opposing end away and cap- 
tured the pigskin. The time was growing short, 
and it was evident that if Riverport was to score 
she must get busy. In a punting battle Hinkley 
could not be relied on to gain ground. Evan did 
some tall thinking about then. While Riverport 
had shown herself able to make good gains 
through the Adams line on occasions, she was 
unable to make ground consistently in that way. 
Evan drew Rob aside, and they whispered a mo- 
ment. Then, 

"Kick formation !" called Evan. 

The ball did n't reach Hinkley, however. It 
went to Evan and from him to Rob, and the lat- 
ter, with the rest of the backs interfering, skirted 
the Adams left end on a wide run. Ten yards, 
fifteen— then Rob was alone, his interference hav- 
ing been bowled over, with the enemy grabbing 
at him and diving for his long legs. Twice he 
was almost down and twice he was up again, stag- 
gering, whirling, dodging on along the side-line. 
And then the Adams left guard and captain 
wrapped his arms around Rob's legs, and Rob 
came to earth, and half a dozen blue-stockinged 
warriors thumped themselves upon him. 

When the pile disentangled itself, Rob rolled 
over on his back, but did n't seem interested in 
getting up. At the end of two minutes he was 
being helped to the side-line, looking very white 
and dizzy, and Hover was running out to take 
his place. Hover was fresh and eager and had 
weight and fight. On the first play Shaler shot 
along the side-line for four yards before he was 
forced out. Then the ball was carried in, and 
Hover was given his chance. Straight through 
center he plowed for eight yards, fighting and 
plunging, and it was first down. Back went 
Hinkley, and, while the onlookers debated 
whether it was really to be a kick, the ball went 
into his hands, and, with good interference, he 
ran the left end for ten yards. On the side-lines 
Riverport was cheering madly, exultantly, Adams 




madly and imploringly. But it seemed that at 
last the light blue had found herself, for Hover 
and Shaler made gain after gain through the 
weakening center, and Evan tore off a short end 
run that at last placed the ball on Adams's thirty- 
two yards. 

"Kick formation!" cried Evan, hoarsely. "How 
much time is there, sir?" 

"A little over five minutes," answered the field 

"Lots of time, fellows ! Kick formation ! Every 
one into this now! 44 — 54—69 — 18 — " 

"Signal !" cried Hover, anxiously. 

"44—54—69—18—24! Got it?" 

"Yes," was the answer, as Hover dug his toes 
into the turf. 

"9-7-8-" . 

Forward plunged the backs, Evan shot the ball 
at Shaler, Jelly and Devens opened the hole, 
and the play slammed through for three yards. 
The same play with Hover carrying the pigskin 
gave three more. But Adams was desperate now, 
almost under the shadow of her goal, and Evan 
knew that a line attack would not give him the 
rest of the distance. He debated whether to try 
again for a field-goal. If Hinkley made it, it 
would probably give them the game, but Hinkley 
could n't be depended on like Deering. A forward 
pass the enemy would be looking for, and the 
chances of bringing it off successfully were slim. 
An end run seemed the only thing unless — 

"I '11 try it!" he told himself. 

"Kick formation!" he called. "24—87—17— 

Back came the ball to him, and with the two 
halfs speeding ahead as interference, he shot 
toward the right end of the line as though for a 
quarter-back run. Adams started to head him off. 
But when he had gone some five paces Evan 
slowed down and, swinging around, dropped the 
ball from his hands and kicked it obliquely across 
the field. 

"Left !" he cried. "Left !" 

There was no one near the ball when it came 
down save Brimmer, and Brimmer let it settle 
into his arms and started on his ten-yard journey 

to the goal-line. Adams had been caught nap- 
ping, but her quarter had not gained his reputa- 
tion for nothing. He reached Brimmer three 
yards from that last fatal white line and bore 
him backward. 

"First down!" called the referee. 

"Line up, fellows !" shrieked Evan. "Lively, 
there ! Lower, you right tackle ! Now make this 
go, fellows! Put it over! Devens back!" Gus 
fell from his place and formed into the tandem. 

Straight at the center of the enemy charged the 
tandem, Hover snuggling the ball to his stomach 
and grunting like an enraged bull as the lines 
met. Forward he went ; some one went down 
before him and seized one knee ; he struggled 
on, dragging the enemy with him grimly; for a 
moment he was stopped ; then something gave in 
front, and he went falling, staggering over the 
line for the touch-down, amid the wild shouts of 

It was all over shortly, after Hinkley had 
kicked goal, and the team was borne off the field 
on the shoulders of as joyously mad a throng as 
ever yelled itself hoarse over a victory. 

Four hours later Evan slipped out of the dining- 
room into the arms of a waiting crowd that filled 
the corridor from side to side. 

"Who 's elected, Kingsford?" they cried as 
they surrounded him. 

"Hopkins proposed Rob," he cried, "and—" 

"Good luck !" 

"Bully for Hop!" 

"But Rob refused because he was a junior." 

"Refused! Then who—" 

"Gus Devens ! Rob proposed him, and it went 
with a roar ! Gus is captain. Let 's give him a 
cheer when he comes out. There he is. Now, 
then, fellows! All together!" 

And as the doors opened wide and the victori- 
ous players came out they were greeted with a 
roar that shook the windows of Second House 
and went rolling out into the night to apprise the 
few absent ones that Riverport had elected her 
foot-ball captain for next year. 




When the sheep are ready to be sheared 

Of their season's woolly crop, 
How do they know which way to go 

To get to the "baa-baa" shop? 




The Brownies met in cheerful vein 
And thus expressed in language plain 
Their views on evils now at hand, 
That called attention from the band. 


Said one : "A state of things is here 
That needs some action, and I fear 

We have in truth no time to spare 
To meet the matter full and fair. , 
The sort of milk that here is sold 
May do for people tough or old, 
That even drugs and liquor ill, 
As it would seem, can hardly kill; 
But infants that attention claim, 
And purest food, are not the same; 
The best the country has to-day 
Is not too good for such as they. 
I would we had some method near 
By which to aid the children dear; 
Old folk might take their chances still 
And drift to homes upon the hill, 
But for the tender tots we find 
A different feeling sway the mind." 
Another said : "Then give a rest 
To doubt and fear, for we are bless'd 
With gifts that we can exercise 
When chances in our pathway rise. 




The cows around this place, we hear, 
Find garbage from the brewery near, 





And while the babes on such depend 
Their time is short from birth to end. 
I know where herds of choicest breed 
Knee-deep in juicy clover feed, 
And where the grass is good and sweet, 
And cattle cannot help but eat." 
A prize was offered for the first 
To reach the pasture, break or burst. 
Then what a rattling time was there 
Of granite, tin, and woodenware, 


To pasture-land some miles away, 
That in a thrifty section lay! 
It mattered not the size or mold 
If things would only take and hold. 
It was not meant for mortal eye 
To see them cross the fences high, 
Or wildly through the ditches plow 
To be the first to fright the cow. 
The greater haste, the slower go, 
Is logic old, as well you know; 
And here, between the haste and wood, 
They could not travel as they should, 
While help not always was at hand, 
Although at times in great demand. 
The cows surprised in midnight field 
Were not inclined to meekly yield, 
And Brownies found as tough a task 
As enterprising sprites could ask. 
A few had never tried before, 
Inside or out a stable door, 
To hunker down, like maid or man, 
To draw the milk in pail or can; 

And some will not forget for years, 

If ever, how the earth appears 

To one when passing through the air 

Clean upside down, and speeding fair. 

Some creatures proved both cross and heady, 

And others seemed not fully ready 


For treatment of the dairy kind, 

And by their actions spoke their mind. 





But work wenfc on in spite of toss, 
For some had luck, while more had loss. 
They used beneath a searching eye 
The instrument that could not lie, 
And proved the milk was of the best 
And stood the scientific test, 
Until to every one 't was plain 
Their journey would not be in vain; 
So in good time supplies were found, 
And soon the band was homeward bound. 

And bring distress, if not dismay. 

Of course some hardships were in line 

In spite of hope, or efforts fine ; 

But long before the morning sun 

Was rising for its daily run, 

The cans and pails were stationed round 

At every door the Brownies found. 

The rosy bloom on every cheek 

Did soon of healthy infants speak. 

There was no need for doctor's call, 


With care they guarded well their store, 
They picked their steps and peeked before; 
But since the Brownie's foot was made 
Like man's, it has a slippery shade 
And is inclined to trip and stray 


No need for midnight walk, nor bawl, 
For gentle sleep blessed every bed 
And gave to growth its proper spread, 
While even creatures understood 
The nourishment was pure and good. 





"Why, Mother, will you believe I cannot buy a 
single fire-cracker or a torpedo in this stupid 
town?" exclaimed Tom Whitney, as he raced into 
his mother's little sitting-room in the old inn at 
Blitz, which, as everybody knows, is one of the 
border towns of Germany. "To-morrow 's the 
Fourth of July, too," the lad added mournfully. 

"Well, well," said his mother, consolingly, 
"what a pity ! You have your flag, Tom, how- 
ever, and that is something." 

"Yes, but I cannot have any fireworks and 
things to show my patriotism. I 'd like to march 
through every street in Blitz and carry my flag 
as if I were the color-bearer of a regiment, if I 
only had another fellow who could play a fife or 
something ! I '11 ask the old grocer, down-stairs. 
He was in the German army once." 

"Is the grocer an old soldier, Tom?" 

"Yes, Mother, he 's an old sergeant and a pen- 
sioner, and he 's going to get me passed into the 
inspection to-morrow at the fort. They 're going 
to have a drill and a rapid-fire practice." 

"Perhaps it would save you a lot of tramping 
about, Tom, if you asked permission to hang the 
flag out of our window." 

"I know, but, you see, I 'm going to take the 
flag with me. Sergeant Schimmelfennig thinks 
he could get a fellow he knows to parade with 
me after the drill." 

Tom did take the flag with him, unfurled and 
fluttering in the brisk, warm breeze, but when 
he met the sergeant at the corner, the good old 
pensioner very mildly suggested that the brilliant 
banner be closely rolled until after their return 
to town. 

"When we come back," he explained, "you may 
celebrate your holiday, but it would not be wise 
to display the flag in the fort. Now, then, 'ten- 
tion ! Vorwarts !" 

As the old sergeant was very well known in 
the barracks, he was given permission to stand 
on the redout, and Tom soon found himself on 
the top of a small hill. There was an exciting 
thud and gallop of horses as the batteries were 
whisked into place, and there was much hurried 
trotting of orderlies bearing messages to and fro. 

By and by the officers to whom the sergeant 

had spoken came also to the redout, but stood on 
the other side, and Tom had the satisfaction of 
watching a very grand-looking officer direct a 
very obedient regiment without raising his voice 
or ruffling himself in the least. Mounted trum- 
peters sounded the commands, and the regular 
tramp of feet, the gallop of horses, the rumbling 
of caissons, went on rhythmically. 

By and by, when the batteries began to "bark," 
as the sergeant called it, and long flashes of flame 
seemed to leap from each cannon's mouth, Tom 
felt indeed that this was a fitting celebration of 
the glorious Fourth, and that it only needed an 
American flag to complete the scene. No sooner 
had the thought flashed into his mind than the 
order was given to "cease firing." The sergeant 
was at that minute called across to speak to one 
of the officers in the group, and almost as soon 
as the officer had opened his mouth to ask a ques- 
tion, the sergeant beheld the man's jaw drop in 
a most curious way, while his eyes almost popped 
out of his head at something he seemed to see 
over the sergeant's shoulder. Turning quickly, the 
old pensioner saw Tom Whitney slowly waving 
the red, white, and blue banner with its field of 
stars to and fro, right under the very folds of 
the flag of the Fatherland, and in the very face 
of a great, gallant troop of the German army ! 
The soldiers also saw the gleam of the white and 
red and blue, and a curious sound went up from 
the ranks. The commanding officer caught sight 
of it, and then — 

"Ach, lieber Ffimmel !" groaned the sergeant, 
"whatever shall I do?" 

"Why did you bring that here?" demanded the 
officer, furiously, pointing to the small flag Tom 
was holding very tightly. 

"Why, you see, it 's our flag," explained Tom, 
who understood German fairly well, his face pal- 
ing a little as the officers crowded angrily around 
him. "It 's our Fourth of July to-day, and I 
could n't get any fire-crackers or anything in 
Blitz, and so I had to have the flag to show I— I 
was celebrating the Declaration of Independence." 

"Independence!" thundered the officer, eying 
Tom severely, while the other men growled some- 
thing about "American children." "Tut, tut ! 




Does that explain why you dare to interrupt our 
drill hy flaunting another flag — " The officer 
hesitated. There was a look in Tom's eye that 
made the man remember when he was a lad and 
the flag of the Fatherland represented all that 


prowess and courage and honor had won for the 
empire. Then, he knew, too, what would be in 
the heart of almost any boy whose eyes were 
frank and clear, and who could answer the ques- 
tions of an angry man coolly and politely. He 
saw the grip of the small hand around the slender 
stick to which the flag was attached, and there 
was a "hold fast" expression on the boyish face 
that made the officer realize that here was the 
Vol. XXXVII. —105-106. 

same "clear grit" that had framed the Declara- 
tion of Independence and then fought to estab- 
lish it. 

"So you are celebrating your national day with 
our cannon !" the officer went on, in quite a new 
tone of voice. "You look 
upon our firing as a salute 
to your flag?" 

"Yes, sir," replied Tom, 
promptly, "and it was 
grand, sir." 

"A-hem !" coughed the 
man, as he glanced at his 
brother officers. "You see, 
however, it is against or- 
ders to allow any foreign 
flag on these parade- 
grounds, so you will have 
to remove that emblem 
before we can continue. 
We will not place you in 
the guard-house, because 
the sergeant here can 
vouch for you, but you 'd 
better withdraw at once 
Because of our great re- 
spect for the American 
flag and for the day, we 
will honor them both, 
though in the only way 
we can." 

After giving an order 
in a deep voice, he waited 
beside the small patriot 
until two lifers from the 
drum corps came tramp- 
ing up the hill and saluted 

"Escortthis color-bearer 
to the gates and play 
'Yankee Doodle !' Vor- 
warts !" 

Then, between the two 
soldiers, fifing gaily as 
they marched, Tom proudly 
carried the colors of his 
own dear land. Although 
he saw many smiling faces 
among the soldiers in the long ranks as he passed, 
there was not a quiver of an eyelid that betrayed 
anything but the utmost respect for his country's 

"I 've had a grand time, Mother," he cried, 
as he hastened into her room shortly afterward. 
"The commandant knew how a fellow would feel 
about the 'Stars and Stripes' when he had to be 
away from home on the Fourth of July !" 




Young Carlie brought his birthday drum and put it on the floor 
Where Purr-purr lay a-sleeping, and dreaming o'er and o'er 
Of mice she would be catching, and of a great big rat, 
When something loud disturbed her, like this— Rat-tat-ta-tat ! 

Surprised, Miss Kitty wakened, and raised a dainty chin 
As if to say, "Why, Carlie ! What is that awful din?" 
And Carlie — ruthless infant — continued loud to beat. 
And watched his pretty pussy get quickly to her feet. 

And faster, harder, louder, the sticks rapped out the noise 
So hated by all kitty-cats, so dearly loved by boys, 
While Purr-purr, seeing Carlie would not his fun postpone, 
That she might finish out her nap, just left — for parts unknown! 

8 34 



Every boy who reads this magazine has heard 
the story of the sinking of the Republic and of 
how the lad who was the operator of the Wire- 
less telegraph stood at his post for hours until he 
had brought help to passengers and crew. 

But there was a little sequel to the story which 
they may not have heard. 

A week after the disaster, the manager of a 
vaudeville company offered this lad no less than 
a thousand dollars a month if he would appear on 
the stage. 

"Me?" he said, bewildered. "A thousand dol- 
lars? Why, I 'm no actor! I 'm only a tele- 
graph operator." 

This reminds me of a similar story which is 
also true. 

A few years ago there stood in Penn Square, 
in Philadelphia, a high old building filled with 
offices and in a ruinous condition. When a neigh- 
boring house was taken down, its foundations 
were weakened and its walls began to fall. Some 
of the occupants of the upper stories escaped ; 
then the stairways fell. But the frame of the 

elevator remained standing and the engine con- 
tinued to work. 

A great crowd assembled in the streets, watch- 
ing the lift as it jogged slowly up and down, 
bringing a dozen men out of the jaws of death. 
As it started up again the frame of the elevator 

The police interfered. "Stop!" they shouted 
to the boy whose hand was on the lever. 

"But there are two women up there," he said. 

"The walls are going!" they cried. "Come 
out !" dragging at him. 

"There are women up there, and I 'm the ele- 
vator boy," he repeated doggedly. 

He went to the top story, took on the women, 
and came down slowly. When the floor of the 
elevator touched the earth there was a great 
shout of triumph. They caught the lad, calling 
him a hero, and praying God to bless him ; but 
he shook himself free from them. 

"Somebody had to go, and I 'm the elevator 
boy," he replied, all unconscious of his bravery 
and unselfishness. 




Listen to the Rain ! 
Hear the merry sounds it makes 
As it falls and slides and shakes 
From the eaves into the street, 
Where its million tiny feet 
Hurry, hurry past the door, 
Followed by a million more ! 

Listen to the Rain ! 
How it gurgles with delight, 
Hurling from its dizzy height, 
Falling straight and falling true, 
Faster now and louder too— 
See ! The tardy drops and small 
Cannot keep the pace at all ! 

Listen to the Rain ! 
Ah ! It 's angry now— I fear 
'T is a scolding voice you hear ! 
How it scolds the drooping trees, 
How it scolds the languid breeze, 
How it scolds the birds, poor things, 
For the dust upon their wings ! 

Listen to the Rain ! 
If you listen hard you '11 hear 
How the skies grow cool and clear, 
How the primrose lifts her head, 
How the mountain brooks are fed, 
How the earth grows sweet again 
With the coming of the Rain ! 



I made a lovely theater for little dolls to-day. 
If you would like, I '11 tell you how. You make it in this way: 
Right on the bottom of a box, a pasteboard box you know, 
You draw a square with space each side. That 's where the stage should go. 

Now cut the square right at the top and cut it down 

each side. 
Upon the base, you bend it in. It cannot be denied 
This makes a "really truly" stage ! For scenery 

you use 
Some pretty colored postal cards of houses, and 

some views. 
To put these in, you cut a slit upon the box's top, 
And, through a wider one in front, the dolls, on 

threads, you drop. 
This must be just above the stage and wide and long, 

you see. 
The actor dolls, held in the wings, can enter easily. 

You move the thread and walk them round. Mine act all kinds of things: 
The fairy stories that I know ; my sailor doll, here, sings. 
And you can use the theater for fun in lots of ways- 
Give lectures on the postal views as well as acting plays. 




The birds, when they get up at dawn, 
Give their feathers a jolly good shake; 

The cat, with a stretch and a yawn, 

Runs outdoors, for she 's quite wide awake. 

But we have to wash and then dress, 

Brush our hair and our teeth and the rest; 

While all Nature's other live things 
Wake up, in the morning, all dressed. 





I have been away in the country fishing for trout 
— catching them, too— and out in the open air all 
day long. Even to think of the inside of a house 
was impossible, and though I wanted to take 
along something to read, I did n't want any book 
that had to do with indoors ; I wanted to lie on 
my back in the sun after eating lunch beside the 
brook and amuse myself with the adventures of 
people who preferred trees and grass to walls and 
carpets ; I should like to have heard Amiens sing- 
ing in the Forest of Arden, 

Under the greenwood tree 
Who loves to lie with me, 
And tune his merry note 
Unto the sweet bird's throat, 

and with the melancholy Jaques have cried : 
"More, more, I prithee, more." But there was no 
use hoping for anything like that. So I stood 
before my bookcase looking over various outdoor 
books I like, when suddenly my eye fell on a 
small, fat, green volume bearing the title, "Life 
and Ballads of Robin Hood." That was just the 
thing ! All outdoors, all gallant adventure, the 
story of the most delightful outlaw who ever 
shot arrow at deer or stopped a rich gentleman 
on the highway. Not that Robin was any com- 
mon highwayman, either. He had been banished 
by the king because of some political trouble, for 
Robin was a free spirit and by no means content 
to submit to the oppression and tyranny then so 
terrible in most lands. And when he could not 
succeed in his political desires, he took to the 
wild forest life, drawing to him all those who 
felt as he did, that a man had a right to some 
degree of independence, and establishing a little 
republic under the trees, whose leader he became. 
In those days, too, to make a living by highway 
robbery was almost a legitimate business, so long 
as you observed certain rules of courtesy and 
fair play. This bold Robin was always most 
scrupulous in doing, and he soon became the 
popular hero of all the poor and downtrodden, 
whom he was ever ready to help with either 
money or courage, of the latter of which he pos- 
sessed plenty, though he was sometimes short of 
the former. 

Surely just the book for my purpose — and for 
yours, these lovely summer days. 


In olden days every English child, not to mention 
their elders, knew the ballads of Robin's adven- 
tures by heart. Many a fair tale is told of him, 
and of his truest comrade and best friend, Little 
John, so called because he was the biggest and 
the strongest of the band. Think, for instance, 
of all the fun in a chapter that has such a heading 
as this: "Robin Hood gives assistance to an im- 
poverished knight, who is thereby enabled to re- 
deem his property from the abbot of St. Mary's. 
The knight sets out to repay Robin, but is de- 
tained by a wrestling-match. Little John enters 
into the service of the sheriff of Nottingham, and 
tricks him out of his plate and his money." It 
sounds promising to me, anyhow. Those were 
rough days, you must remember, and wrestling- 
and boxing-matches were the usual recreations 
of the village youth. On this occasion there 
were several prizes : a white bull, a courser with 
a golden bridle, a pipe of wine, a gold ring, and 
a pair of gloves. It chanced that they were all 
.won by a youth from a distance ; this enraged the 
villagers, and they were about to set upon the 
boy and kill him, meaning to take the prizes for 
themselves, when the knight rode up with his at- 
tendants and saw that the stranger got fair play ; 
which kept him so long that when he finally 
reached Sherwood Forest, Robin had been wait- 
ing dinner for three long hours, and was be- 
ginning to think the knight had played him false. 
Robin was always glad of a fine stand-up fight 
with some stout valiant fellow, even when he got 
the worst of it. In that case he liked the man 
all the better for his prowess, and usually man- 
aged to get him to enlist in his company and put 
on the gay uniform of Lincoln green. One such 
battle is recorded where Robin Hood and Will 
Scarlett and Little John fought with three game- 
keepers from eight in the morning to three in 
the afternoon. Being then somewhat winded, 
they called a halt and talked matters over, with 
the result that they made friends over a butt of 
sack, which Robin agreed to pay for, and then 
all six went back to Sherwood Forest as free 
rangers and steadfast friends. On another occa- 
sion Robin was forbidden by a forester to shoot 
at a deer, and the two began a fight that lasted 
three hours. "At length," says the story, "the 
forester became enraged ; and he cudgeled Robin 



so soundly that he could bear it no longer, but 
cried: 'Let us freely give over. I delight in a 
man that can fight courageously, and I love him 
with all my heart.' Whereupon Robin blew a 
blast with his bugle-horn, and a hundred of his 
yeomen speedily made their appearance, with their 
longbows in their hands. Little John, who was 
clad in a rich green mantle, was at their head ; 
and it was a glorious sight to see them in their 
uniforms of Lincoln green." So glorious that 
the forester instantly wanted to become one of 
them, and joined them on the spot. 

Robin Hood led his life in the greenwood many 
hundreds of years ago. Yet his name is as well 
known to-day as it was in the thirteenth century, 
when he was alive and many persons had had 
adventures with him. This, I suppose, is because 
he appeals to the love of freedom in us, and is 
a forerunner of Washington and Lincoln in so 
far that he understood that men had a right to 
withstand oppression and slavery. For the laws 
of that day bore very heavily on the poor, and the 
overlords did as they chose with their servants 
and vassals. Robin did n't believe this was right, 
and he always helped the poor and the weak, and 
fought the grasping barons and abbots who 
wrung the last farthing from the peasants. And he 
did this in so daring and gallant a way that he 
often made the very people he robbed like him. 
He was never known to do a mean or unkind 
thing, to take money from a man poorer than 
himself, or to harm a woman. 


The first ballad known to have been written 
about Robin Hood was printed in 1489, but it was 
written at least a hundred years before that time. 
It was called "A Lytell Geste of Robin Hood," 
gcste meaning actions or deeds, so that now we 
should write it, "A Short Account of the Deeds 
of Robin Hood." It is an interesting work, full 
of details of the life of those days. The bow 
and arrow was the weapon most used, and Robin 
was famous for his wonderful accuracy in shoot- 
ing, much as our own Leatherstocking was for 
his skill with the rifle. Robin is said to have 
been able to split a hazel wand a long bow-shot 
off, and many a verse relates how he and his 
rangers would carry off all the prizes at the 
matches. Robin and Little John were always 
playing tricks on the game-wardens, and partic- 
ularly on the sheriff of Nottingham. As you 
saw in the chapter heading, Little John took ser- 
vice under this personage at one time, and soon 
seized an opportunity of robbing him, even to the 
extent of persuading the sheriff's cook to go along 
with him and become a ranger. The band cele- 

brated this with a great dinner, and captured the 
sheriff himself as their guest. Says the ballad: 

Soon he was to supper set 

And served witli silver white ; 

But when his own silver vessels he saw, 

For sorrow he could not eat. 

But Robin tells him : 

" Make good cheer," said Robin Hoou, 
" Sheriff, for Charity; 

And for the love of Little John 

Thy life is granted to thee." 

So the sheriff does the best he can. But when 
night comes he is forced to sleep on the bare 
ground like the outlaws, wrapped only in the long- 
cloak of Lincoln green which Little John gives 
him. He gets up next morning so sore and stiff 
that he feels he would rather die than stand an- 
other night of it ; and when Robin tells him he is 
to remain with them a year, he cries : 

" Ere I here another night lie, 
Robin, now I pray thee, 
Smite off my head this very morn, 
And I forgive it thee." 

But the outlaws have had their joke and let him 
go home, 

As full of the greenwood as ever were hips of stone. 

You see how simple in form these old ballads 
are. They just string the story along to a sort 
of singsong that makes them easy to remember. 
There are also several prose lives, and you are 
sure to find them charming. 

Robin Hood met his death at the hands of a 
woman who was his cousin, and a prioress. He 
trusted her, and when he fell sick came to her 
nunnery to be healed. But she betrayed him, and 
Little John finds him dying. In his rage and 
grief he wanted to burn down the nunnery. But 
Robin forbade this. 

"Nay," he said, "I will not grant thee that 
boon. I never hurt woman in all my life, nor a 
man in company with a woman. I never hurt 
fair maid in all my time; and I will not do so, 
now my end is come. Give me my bent bow in 
my hand, and I will let fly a broad arrow; and 
let my grave be digged where that arrow is taken 

And so it was done, and Robin was laid to rest 
where he had always loved to be, in 

Freedom's free and happy home 
Under the greenwood tree. 

To this day they point out the grave to the vis- 
itor near Kirklees Hall. 

NATURE%5CIENCt r v Y 0UNG Folks Edward f.bicelow 


As seen from below and rear. Note the great expanse of wings and tail for resisting, that is, floating on, the air, as seen :n the central figure ; 
then in the figure at the left, the thin, air-cutting edge of a bird as seen from front or rear. 


Though there are many internal peculiarities, as 
of lungs and of bones, by which birds are adapted 
to flight, they are neither the main things nor the 
most interesting things to be considered when we 
inquire into the how and the why of the flight of 
birds. In observing the riving bird, how far does 





flight explain itself? In other words, what can 
live birds teach us human beings of flight? 

The general form of the bird is naturally the 
first thing of which we think. We easily notice 
that in wings and tail it is kite-like; in body and 
head, bullet-like. So important are these simple 
discoveries that this essay might with some rea- 
son be ended here. Imagine a kite with a rudder 
and having an intelligent will of its own. Is it 
not possible to think of it as moving about in the 
air with a degree of bird-like freedom?' 

As for the bullet-like form of head and body, 
one can see by a glance at Fig. 2, especially d, 
these appear to be practically a point, which we 
may call the point of will. The head is indeed 
the will-point in the bird-kite. In flight it bears 
outwardly the same relation to the bird's body 
that the prow of a boat does to its hull ; it cleaves 
the air as the boat's prow does the water. 

Let us look at some apparent exceptions to our 
ruddered kite moving by its own will. In the- 
same diagram (b) notice that the head and body 
of a grouse is, for example, a pretty bulky point 
of will ! But remember, too, that the flight of 
such birds is remarkably heavy and limited both 
in direction and duration. There is quite as much 
difference between the easy, graceful, sweeping, 
tireless flight of a man-of-war bird and the direct, 



labored, short spurt of a grouse as there is be- 
tween the relative size or expanse of their wings. 

The rules are : 

Birds capable of very prolonged, graceful, 
varied, soaring flight have a vast expanse of 
wings as compared with the size of the body. 
Birds of short, labored, and bullet-like flight have 




To show the small resistance to the air in the direction of flight, a, 
wild duck; b, grouse and quail; c, crow; d, man-of-war bird — a 
typical sea-bird. 

comparatively small, rounded wings and heavy 
bodies. When the flight is between these ex- 
tremes, the extent of the wings as related to the 
size of the body remains the same with relation, 
again, to the degree of freedom in the bird's 
flight. Birds with poorly developed wings — for 
example, the ostrich, penguin, and apteryx— are 
always flightless. 

If we believe the form of a bird, such as we 


To show shutter-like lapping of the feathers. Note the arrangement of 
the feathers in pairs, the outermost feather on each side being the 
outer pair; hence there is always an even number of tail-feathers — 
usually twelve. 

have seen it to be, of first importance, we should 
expect to find on closer examination that every 
detail of its make-up goes to prove the fact, and 
this is exactly what we do find, as shall be seen. 

In Fig. i notice the sets of feathers marked 
"primaries" and "secondaries." This is the order 
of their importance in flight, the primaries being 
the all-necessary ones, since a "pinioned" bird 
(one suffering the permanent loss of several of 
the outermost, or all of these feathers) cannot 
fly, though it may fly when most of its second- 


To show loose overlapping of the flight-feathers that the air may escape 

between them in the upward stroke of the wings. 

aries, and even all of its tail-feathers as well, are 
alone missing. We see among all birds a general 
sameness of the wing-feathers of the outer set; 
with few or no exceptions, they are comparatively 
strong and stiff and of one general shape, while 
the other feathers differ, among the various kinds 
of birds, in endless and often extreme ways. This 
fact very properly leads us to believe the typical 
shape of these primaries must be the best for the 
purpose of flight. 

Flight-feathers are found to be stiffest and 
strongest at their quill ends and most yielding at 
their tips. They always overlap in the same way, 
the outermost feather of the extended wing being 
the undermost in the fully closed wing. The 
shaft of the feather is near the middle, but to- 
ward the outer edge in the inner flight-feathers, 
and near the outer edge of the outermost feathers. 


To show the tight overlapping of the flight-feathers, to resist the air, 

in the downward stroke of the wings. 

By these arrangements the wing has a valve-like 
and an oar-like action upon the air, according, 
more or less, to the will and purpose of the bird 
whether to sail, swoop, stop, go ahead, or what 
not. Moreover, the feathers are so arranged in 
sets, one set to each joint of the wing, as to fold 
and overlie with remarkable smoothness. 

In these respects and in a great many others, 




we see that the wings resemble oars, rather than 
sails, for navigating the airy sea. However, 
"fish of the air" is a still more scientific title for 

Showing the use of the wings and the tail in swooping. 

birds than "ships of the air" — even when we 
stretch "ships" to mean submarines. 

That the tail of a bird serves mostly as a rud- 
der and a brake is evident when we watch a spar- 


row which has lost this means of steering and 
arresting its flight. It is apt to fly only straight 
forward, and it comes to rest awkwardly — more 
so than birds whose tails are naturally very short 

or almost wanting. The latter class of birds 
usually have the wings placed far backward, as 
in loons, ducks, and geese ; or they have long legs 
which they carry extended behind them like a 
tail, as in herons and snipe. The feet and legs of 
such birds doubtless serve the ordinary purposes 
of a tail. In coming to rest a wild duck, for ex- 
ample, drops its feet and stretches its webbed toes 
apart in a conspicuous fashion, just as a meadow- 
lark expands and drops its tail. Herons and 
snipe make a similar use of their legs, the length 
of the latter probably making up for the lack of 
webbed toes in resisting the air. 

The relative importance of wings and tail is 
further shown by comparing these organs in all 
cases where they are modified as ornaments. In 
doing this, we find the tail is of an ornamental 


One of the common instances in which the tail-feathers are lengthened 

as ornaments. 

form far oftener than the wings. With many 
birds the tail is really a hindrance to flight. 

In Africa Mr. Roosevelt observed that the long- 
tailed male whydah finches were slower than their 
mates, whose tails were of the usual length, so 
that the males fell behind when a flock took wing. 

Among the pheasants such ornamental tails are 
of common occurrence, and there are numerous 
examples among other families of birds. Perhaps 




any greater development of tail than in our com- 
mon barn-swallow should be regarded as more 
ornamental than useful. 

If we turn our attention now to the wings of 
birds, we shall look in vain for anything like such 

several weeks its petals began to droop a little. 
A visitor noticed the extraordinary resemblance 
to the features of the late President of the United 
States, William McKinley, when looked at from 
a particular point of view, and the flower has 
since been called the "McKinley lily." Every 
effort is being made to keep it in existence in its 

One of the rare instances in which the flight-feathers are lengthened 

as ornaments. 

numerous and embarrassing shapes. So rarely 
do such modifications of wings occur that I can 
think of only one striking example among the 
birds of the world — the pennant-winged nightjar, 
a kind of night-hawk of the tropics. It is inter- 
esting to note this bird is a night species, probably 
with very few, if any, enemies to make strong 
flight necessary. 

Thus we have seen that the tail is not even 
strictly necessary to flight, though the tails of 
flightless birds are commonly, if not always, very 
small or almost wholly wanting, and the birds of 
the best powers of flight have, as a rule, the best- 
developed tails, whereas quite well-developed 
wings are decidedly necessary to flight. 

Edmund J. Sawyer. 


Alameda County, one of the counties that border 

on the Bay of San Francisco, has a great variety 

of products, of which it has for several years 

maintained an interesting exhibition in the rooms 

of the Chamber of Commerce at Oakland, its 

chief city. The work of preparing the flowers, 

fruits, and vegetables for exhibition is in the 

hands of Mr. W. D. Nichols, who has a process 

whereby he is able to preserve them for a long 

time without losing their form or color. One of present state as long as possible, as it has proved 

the most remarkable exhibits is what is known as a great attraction and object of interest to visi- 

the "McKinley lily." A large lily was placed in tors. 

a glass jar with the preserving fluid, and after Arthur Inkersley. 








Last year, early in June, a beautiful pair of 
wood-thrushes, or wood-robins as we often call 
them, began to build their nest in a pear-tree 
within a few feet of the house and twelve feet 


from the ground. It was one of the most public 
places they could have selected — close to the door 
which people were constantly using and within 
ten feet of the street with its bustle and noise. 

The nest progressed rapidly to completion 
through rain and shine. The bulk of it was made 
of coarse leaf-stems, grass, and strips of bark. 
All were solidly fastened together with mud 
gathered from the street. But they departed 
from their usual method of nest-building by 
weaving in a large number of strips of white 
cloth a foot long and about one inch wide, so 
that one end was firmly fastened in the nest. 

Finally the inner lining of rootlets was finished, 
and the eggs, three in number, of a greenish-blue 
color, were laid. Two of them were hatched 
and the young birds safely raised. 

A few days later another nest similar in every 
way was begun near by and decorated with its 
ornament of strips, but the birds abandoned it 
before completion for unknown reasons. 

Thomas Ff. Jackson. 


These remarkable objects, discovered and caught 
by the writer's camera, stand at the end of Spen- 
cer Avenue, Holly Beach, New Jersey, not far 
from the rolling surf of Five Mile Island, where 
they have been inseparable comrades for many 
years, and have become so intimately united from 
the tips of their roots to their topmost branches, 
and have hugged one another so closely with the 
strong arms that branch from their trunks, that 
now in their old age separation is impossible. 
They might be dubbed "The Triplets," so nearly 
equal are they in size and age, were they "three 
of a kind.'' But they are not. The central one is 
a cedar, while on each side is a holly, which in 
this section of New Jersey grows almost to the 
proportions of a fair-sized maple or beech, and 


bears beautiful, dark-green, glossy leaves and 
bunches of red berries. — Frank P. Jewett. 





A beautiful brown-and-gray beetle on a branch 
of an evergreen tree had attracted the attention 


of an observing man, who brought it to my desk 
to learn, "What is its name and how does it 
live?" The name, Monohammus confusor, I ex- 


plained, is a little longer than the beetle itself, 
which is only an inch and a quarter in length. 
The larva bores in the wood of pine and fir. 

To show to the best advantage the beautiful 
brown-and-gray furry covering, I placed the 
beetle under a small pocket-lens, that brought 
forth the astonishing exclamation, "Why, he has 
a fur collar, and his face looks like a cow." 

I did not dispute, but merely wondered whether 
our boys and girls would agree with him. Of 
course I cannot pass the beetle to all of you, so 
I do the next best thing, and photograph it a little 


enlarged, with a separate picture still more en- 
larged of the face and the collar. 

Was the visitor's jocose exclamation properly 
descriptive of what he saw? 


Photographing live fish in their natural sur- 
roundings is, at best, a difficult feat, but when the 
fish in question are speckled brook-trout it be- 
comes a matter of unlimited patience and many 
trials. Needless to say, the trout must be in 
shallow water where they cannot get out of sight, - 
but that is only the beginning. Just as all prep- 
arations have been made and success seems on 


the point of achievement, a dash by his troutship 
will leave nothing in sight but roily water. 

Verne Morton. 






Hamburg, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I want to know if you can tell me 
why one of my sisters can never be near an animal without 
its showing that it does not like her. All the cats scratch 
her, our dog jumps on her and runs off with her hat, and 
she can never go near the goat without getting a good hard 
butt. It is not because she teases them, because she is 
just as gentle as she can be, and I have never seen her 
tease an animal. 

Another question I should like to ask is, when we want 
our dog to eat anything he does not want to, he will only 
eat it when I tell him to. 

Your young reader, 

Adelaide Cecilia Webster. 

Pet animals are like human beings in their likes 
and dislikes. If they form a friendship for one 
person upon whom they have learned to depend 
for food and agreeable attentions, they may be 
jealous of the approach of other persons, and act 
as if displeased at intrusion. It may be difficult 
in some cases to account for the behavior, but it 
is evidently a manifestation of favoritism on the 

Upper, hatched ; lower, unhatched. 

part of the pet— a favoritism induced, as a rule, 
by the kindness and care of the master or mistress. 
The second question shows that the dog respects 
the authority of his mistress. — C. O. Whitman. 


New Bedford, Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Inclosed you will find a piece of 
an oak-tree twig with some queer growth on it, that I 

found one day coming home from school. Will you please 
tell me what it is ? 

Your loving reader, 

Alice M. Borden. 

What you call a "queer growth" is the egg- 
mass of an apple-tree tent-caterpillar. This is 
the insect which builds large webs in apple- and 
wild-cherry-trees early in the spring. The egg- 
cluster is covered by a material resembling var- 
nish, which protects it during the winter months. 
The accompanying illustration shows an egg-mass 
thus protected, and also where the eggs have 
hatched and the tiny occupants have gone out to 
feed on unopened buds and also on developing 


Overbrook, Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Will you please tell me how old 
canary-birds live to be ? 

Your loving reader, 

Ellen Ryerson (age 15). 

The average life of a canary is about seven 
years, but some have been known to live to be 
even twenty years of age. 

why the fly followed the caterpillar 

Decatur, III. 
Dear St. Nicholas : While walking under a walnut-tree 
I saw a large caterpillar, about an inch and a half long, 
crawling on the asphalt, and an ordinary house-fly kept 
following it. If the fly came too near, the worm rolled 
over and over to keep out of the fly's way. Now why 
would so large a worm fear so small a fly ? 
Your interested reader, 

Helen Lee (age 13). 

I infer that what you thought was a house-fly 
was a tachina-fly, which was trying to lay an egg 
on the caterpillar's back. These tachina-flies are 
parasitic in their habits, and if the fly observed 
had succeeded in laying an egg on the back of the 
caterpillar, the egg would eventually have hatched 
into a maggot, which would enter the b6dy of the 
caterpillar and in the end kill it. — Dr. Leland O. 

insect-enemies of insects 

Denver, Colo. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I am interested in the different kinds 
of larvae, and I keep them through the fall and winter, 
hoping to watch them change in the spring. Before spring, 
however, most of them are dead, caused by a breeding of 
worms and flies. Are so many of them destroyed when 
they are in their natural life, or is it caused, partly, from 
keeping them in captivity ? 

I hope I have not asked too much. 

Your interested reader, 

Cecil Walsh. 

Nature is constantly playing an important part 
in checking excessive numbers of animals and 
plants. Nearly every species has its enemies, 
great or small, that, to maintain their own ex- 




istence, perform this work of restriction. By 
this means the balance of nature is maintained. 
Among the most important of nature's balancers 



In an effort to deposit its eggs so that the fly larva after hatching win 

feed upon the caterpillar. 

are the insect parasites, composing families be- 
longing principally to the Hymcnoptera and Dip- 
tcra, the former being generally known as ichne- 
umon-wasps, the latter as tachina-flies. Among 
their victims are all kinds of insects, particularly 
the immature stages. The larva; (caterpillars) 
of the Lepidoptera are frequent victims, and it 
is indeed the exception to find individuals that are 
not the "hosts" of parasites. The hymenopterous 
parasites are by far the most common, the larger 
species infesting each caterpillar singly; the 
minute species in large numbers. The latter are 
illustrated by the very commonly parasitized cat- 
erpillars of two sphinx-moths, the big green 
worms of the grape-vine and the tomato-plant 
After feeding within the body of the poor cater- 
pillar the minute parasitic larvae emerge and build 
tiny white cocoons close together and often all 
over the back of the host. This is not an un- 
common sight among tomato-plants. There are 
species of caterpillars, however, that seem to be 
almost immune from the attacks of ichneumons. 
These the fly parasites seem especially to seek out. 
Tachina-flies are often called bluebottle flies 
and are not unlike the common house-pest in 
general appearance. The eggs, appearing as long 
cream-white specks, are fastened to the skin of 
the caterpillar's back, and when they hatch the 
tiny, maggot-like larvae of the fly bore through the 

skin and also feed upon the soft parts of the 
doomed caterpillar. 

So it very frequently happens that the cater- 
pillar that one captures to rear tenderly on its 
natural food-plant, expecting later to witness its 
fascinating transformations into chrysalis, co- 
coon, and delicately colored moth or butterfly, 
will instead yield a harvest of flies or ichneumons. 

S. F. Aaron. 

the pigeons at st. mark's square (venlcel 

Dresden, Germany. 
Dear St. Nicholas: The day after arriving at Venice, 
we visited St. Mark's Square. At the east end stands the 
beautiful St. Mark's Church. On the square are a lot of 
tame pigeons. They were first looked after by the state, 
but are now left to the care of the people. There are al- 
ways men around selling corn. The pigeons seemed to 
take a special pleasure in perching upon our hats. We 
saw one of them which had his legs tied together. I used 
to feed them every time I crossed the square, and" that was 
several times a day. 

The two things I liked most in Venice were the pigeons 
and the canals. 

Genia R. Morris. 


The gentleness of the pigeons of St. Mark's 
Square is famous everywhere. Let us try to have 
pigeons in other places right here in our own 
country equally well won by kindnesses. 














If you don't know all the names of these, some 
one who has been on a steamer can tell you. 

All these things are on board the steamer and if you 
look carefully about you will see them. 

Vol. XXXVII. -107. 




Of course most of the time you see nothing but water, 

water, water; but sometimes you will 

see things like these. 




Here are the names of what you may see from 
the deck of the steamer. 

<^t> An iceberg. <^)> A sailing ship. 

<^> A whale. ($) A shipwreck. 

<5> A lighthouse. 

While on board a steamer you always have plenty of 
time to amuse yourself. A good way is to draw pic- 
tures, only don't do as this little boy did. 

First he drew 
a bird 

Here is a little boy who found 
a pot of black paint, near a 
nice white wall, so he thought 
he would draw some pictures. 

Then a pig looking 
up in the air 

A rabbit 



Then an 

A cat 

An elephant 

A house 

A goose 

Other things you may see from a steamer's deck. 

4** A 

A yacht 

A sic 

A battle-ship A schooner A torpedo-boat 

The subjects for all of this month's competitions were 
very popular, judging from the many contributions received. 
By far the greater number of the drawing contributions, 
that is, on "A Patriotic Subject," pictured the celebration 
of the Fourth of July, or the dire effects of the day only 
too well celebrated. This was natural, for the combination 
of " Patriotism " and "the July number " could hardly be 
expected to suggest anything more appropriate than the 
" Glorious Fourth," and what it stands for, and the way it 
is observed — that is, to American young folks. 

"Going It Alone," the subject of the photography con- 
test, proved to be susceptible of several interpretations, 
all the way from the first steps of a tiny toddler to the 
uninterrupted waters of Niagara Falls, and all possible 
meanings between those limits. 

Not a few of the competitors in their contributions on 
the prose subject, " My Choice — Making a Visit, or Re- 
ceiving a Visitor," merely told of a visit they had 'made 
or of visitors they had entertained, but failed to state 
which they enjoyed most. The object of the subject was 
to bring out the choice on the part of the competitor, and if 
possible, the reason for that choice. While many of these 

contributions were very well written and gave entertaining 
descriptions, we could not give any of them prizes, as they 
were not confined to a strict reading of the subject. On 
the other hand, the majority read the subject aright. It is 
interesting to observe the difference of opinion. In the 
main, the contributors seem to prefer having visitors to 
going visiting. 

We would call the attention of League members to the 
line below reading, " In making the awards, competitors' 
ages are considered." It must be borne in mind that the 
ages of League members who compete range from seven or 
eight to seventeen years of age. Not infrequently a con- 
tribution, either prose or verse or photograph or drawing, 
is received from a member ten or nine or even eight years 
of age that will receive a silver badge. This does not 
mean that it is a better contribution than many received 
from members fourteen or sixteen or older, but it means 
that for so young a contributor the work is better than that 
of some others whose greater age would naturally call for 
better work. So please bear this in mind and take notice 
of the contributor's age when you see his or her work 
printed and know that it is not so good as your own. 


In making the awards, competitors' ages are considered. 

PROSE. Silver badges, Genevieve Olcott Anderson (age n), Vonkers, N. V. ; Lorraine Ransom (age 17), Paris, 
France; Elizabeth C Walton (age 13), Washington, D. C. 

VERSE. Silver badge, Anna B. Stearns (age 14), Dedham, Mass. 

DRAWINGS. Silver badges, A. M. Cooper (age 14), Danesmead, Eng. ; Cecilia A. L. Kelly (age 17), Tell City, 
Ind. ; Virginia S. Brown (age 16), Lamro, S. D. 

PHOTOGRAPHY. Silver badges, Helen Laylin (age 13), Norwalk, O. ; Coleman Sellers, 3d (age 17), Philadelphia, 
Pa.-; Ruth MacC. Peters (age 16), Jamaica Plains, Mass. ; Asa S. Bushnell (age 10), Springfield, O 

WILD CREATURE PHOTOGRAPHY. Class " C " prize, Frances Carey (age 10), Cambridge, Mass. 

PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badges, Ingle Whinery (age 14), Grand Rapids, Mich. ; Marguerite Nevin Booth 
(age 17), Sewickley, Pa. 

PUZZLE ANSWERS. Gold badges, Agnes L. Thomson (age 16), Whiteman Creek, B. C. ; Frances Crosby 
Hamlet (age 16), Westbrook, Me. 





{Silver Badge) 

Would I rather go visiting or have visitors ? Well, it 

If I might either invite Mary Elizabeth to my house or 
go to hers, I certainly should have her come to see me, for 
her aunt is always lecturing and saying, " Don't go into 
the living-room and don't play any rough games. You 
may play geographical questions if you like, but don't tear 
the cards. Then you may sew. Genevieve may help you 
if she likes. Be sure to take off your frock and don't sit 
on the bed." After innumerable warnings she goes down- 
stairs to "tidy up " the already neat living-room. 

We try geographical questions for a while, but it is n't a 
speck of fun because we know the answer to every question 
by heart. After that we sew a little and I find, some- 
what to my delight, that it is time to go home. 





Yes, I know it is not nice to criticize the way in which 
your neighbors entertain, but I can't just say I enjoy my 
visits at the Browns'. 

When Mary Elizabeth comes to my house, perhaps we 
make candy or play charades with my brothers. 

Whatever we do, I think we have a pretty nice time. 

If Rebecca could come to my house or I could go to 
hers, I would go to hers without delay, for Mrs. Bashford 
allows us to race and romp to our hearts' content as long 
as we don't get into mischief. 

I am almost always invited to stay to supper, which, I 
assure you, is always delicious. After supper we tell 
ghost stories in the dark, read about robberies, or do any- 
thing which scares us so that we are afraid to go to bed alone. 

You see it is very hard to decide, but, after all, perhaps 
I do favor being entertained, for I think there are more 
Rebeccas than Mary Elizabeths, 



(Silver Badge) 

I told my mother, yesterday, 
The reason why I used to be 

So scared to go to bed ; 't is this : 
The hall up-stairs is dark, you see, 



And some one, from the blackest part, 
Might jump and grab me by the hair ! 

This told, my mother said: " To-night 
You 'd better wait five minutes there, 

" And when they 're gone, you '11 hear me call." 
By "there" she meant the darkest part. 
'T was bedtime then, so off I went, 
But with a scary, sinking heart. 

I soon was there ; the dreadful place 
Seemed twice as bad as e'er before; 

I put my back against the wall • 

My shoes were shaking on the floor. 

Each squeaky board or tiny noise 
Would put me in an awful fright ; 

Words can't express the longing that 
I felt for just a gleam of light. 

I waited there; it seemed an age 
Before I heard my mother's call. 

But now I won't be scared again 
For no one grabbed me, after all ! 



As I live quite a distance from the city, I usually ask my 
friends to stay overnight with me. 

We have great fun, for there are many things to do in 
the country, the chief one being horseback-riding, which 
we like the best. There are several pretty roads near our 
place, so that we may take an early ride and yet there is 
still time upon reaching home for a picnic in the woods 
and outdoor games. 

Although I have done the same things often before, they 
always seem new, and so much more fun when I have a 
friend to do them with me. 

I also enjoy going visiting, but one reason I believe I 
like having guests is I have never entertained any one ex- 
cept those whom I like very much. 





{Honor Mem ber) 

I sit in the stillness alone, 

'T is an hour I have long fore- 
seen, — 
And I wait for the clock's slow chime 

To tell me I am eighteen. 

Eighteen ! And the gates will close 
Which can never open again, 

And I must go forth alone 
Into the world of men. 

I shall move in a larger sphere, 

And higher duties find ; 
But I shall not forget the years 

With those I have left behind. 

I shall cherish green in my heart — 
Whatever the years may give — 

The time when I "lived to learn," 
The time when I "learned to live." 

I am waiting alone for the hour, 
And ah ! how the moments fly. 

Hark ! Do you hear the chimes ? 
Comrades and friends, — good-by! 

tennis is an impossibility without an opponent and what 
fun is a pony and cart or a canoe without friends to share 
them? A picnic all alone is unbearable, but having visi- 
tors obviates all these things. 

"a patriotic subject." 




{Silver Badge) 

Having visitors is certainly my choice, except the few un- 
fortunate ones possessing a vocabulary limited to two 
words, " Yes," and "No"; then, of course, it is n't my 
choice, or any one's ; but those cases are few and far be- 


Our house is always a meeting-place, because at half- 
past four a cup of tea is always to be had, and if too many 
come, apples and pop-corn can be found. So many things 
can be done by having some one drop in. A game of 

A house-party and all the friends from the surrounding 
country make one forget that one is an only child. Of 
course, perhaps if there were ten in our family instead of 
one, I might prefer going visiting, but as it is, a large 
house and company suit me — a game of tennis on one 
side of the house, croquet on another, and yourself just be- 
tween to see that every one has a good time and is pro- 
vided with partners. 

Helping Mother with her guests makes one feel at least 
twenty, passing cake, and then joining your own friends 
in the pantry after every one is gone, and coming to dinner 
wondering why you are not hungry. 

Altogether, I think being hostess is one prolonged state 
of having a good time. 


{Honor Member) 

The sky doth frown, 

The snow drifts down, 
The harsh winds howl strong; 

Tho' others play, 

I 'm glad to stay 
Inside the whole day long. 

Thick clouds of dun 

Close shroud the sun, 
The trees are bare and bleak; 

The icy hold 

Of Winter's cold 
Has stilled the merry creek. 

Inside, the fire 

Leaps higher and higher, 
Its warmth great comfort leaves; 

Outside, in rows, 

The sparrows doze 
Beneath the snowy eaves. 




Old Winter's stay 
Is long and gray, 

It saddens everything; 

We 're waiting still 
P'or March winds shril 

To herald back the spring. 

and others of great name, who often came as visitors to 
this very hospitable home. This particular afternoon, Jack 
Prescott, the cat, was not invited. His mistress informed 
her guests that cats should be in their proper places, and 
not among such fine guests as these. The table was laid, 
and the visitors gathered around. The obliging hostess 



(An Illustrated Story) 


(Silver Badge) 

What delight to have a few cheery visitors ! What sun- 
shine and brightness they bring ! What delightful memo- 
ries they leave behind ! But, oil ! the distress of unwel- 
come ones ! Several years ago, there lived a tiny girl who 
was exceedingly fond of having visitors, but her visitors 
were always dolls. She had a cat, too, but she never in- 
vited him to company teas, because, as she informed her 
wee guests, he never behaved well enough. 

One bright, sunshiny afternoon, she invited a few guests 
(dolls, of course) to a little tea, served on her porch. The 
day being warm, she removed her shoes and stockings, and 
" tidied " her house, and made preparations for her guests, 
who arrived as if by magic. Betty came, of course, be- 
cause Betty was a great favorite. She was not beautiful, 
but her fond " mother " saw only delight in her smutty little 

was kept busy eating, for, do you know, these grand guests 
never did their own eating, and this delicate task always 
fell to her lot. But one there was as fond of eating as she, 
and this visitor happened in in time for the repast, he not 
having been invited to partake of the delicate viands. My 
little lady turned her head ; and he sprang quickly to the 
table, greedily devouring the dainties. The consternation 
of the guests and the wails of the hostess brought her 
mother to the rescue, and the culprit, Jack Prescott, was 
borne ignominiously away. This particular tot thinks it 's 
pleasanter to visit than to have visitors when cats are 



Just one year ago, when I graduated from the Grammar 
School, Mother gave me my choice of either going to the 
High School or taking a business course. I consulted the 
teacher I had in the graduating class, and asked her if 
she were in my place which she would choose. She ad- 
vised me to go to the High School. Well, I took her 




AGE 17. 

AGE 15. 

face and rag body, for, if you will believe it, Betty was al- advice and went to the High School, but I certainly was 

most as old as her mother, arid was her constant com- sorry after I had done so. 

panion; then there were Bo-Peep, Trilby, Julia, Tom Reed, Everything, mainly Latin, seemed very difficult for the 




first few weeks of the term. The studies seemed gradu- 
ally to get easier ; but the Latin kept getting harder every 
day, and I constantly worried about it. I begged Mother 
to allow me to leave ; but she told me since I had had my 
choice and wished to go to the High School, I must con- 
tinue my course. 

After two months had passed, I gradually got to like all 
my studies, even the Latin that I had so much difficulty 

As the term progressed, my marks seemed to get better, 
and when it came time for promotion I had passed in every- 
thing. I am now in the second class and have no trouble 
with any of my studies. 


I am now very glad that Mother refused to let me leave, 
because I enjoy going to the High School very much. 

I often hear of girls, after they have been in the High 
School but one week, leaving and going to some business 
school. I am very glad for the choice I made. 



The nicest place, I think, that I have ever been to is in 
Merionethshire, North Wales. My sister and Lwent there 
with some friends. We stayed for a month in the last 
house of a village which had been washed away by the 
sea. There is an island near where we were that is called 
" Machorus," or Shell Island; on it are the ruins of a 
house, and on the mainland, up a little bank from the 
beach, stand a ruined church and a lot of old tombstones. 
Some havemoss which wonderfully preserves the lettering. 
I scraped the moss off of one and found it was dated 1660. 

Several miles from Llandanwg — the name of the house — 
is the town of Halech, celebrated for the ancient Halecli 
castle, built by James I, I think. The ghost of a lady 
is supposed to haunt it. At seven o'clock it looks out 
toward Ireland, for the lady expected help from France, 
and that is why she used to look out over the sea in the di- 
rection which the ships would come. 

Llandanwg beach, as we call it, is, I think, the best 
beach for playing that there is. It is curiously divided into 
parts. One part is clear sand and nothing else, the next is 
a little sand and some stones, and then conies a long stretch 
of rocks and rock pools, containing sea-anemones, starfish, 

prawns, winkles, and crabs. Every now and then there 
are little patches of sand through which you can dig chan- 
nels and connect the pools. After the rock pools comes 
another stretch of sand, and up from the beach is a golf 
links, over which Halech castle watches, and away beyond 
Halech and the plain, which was once covered with the 
sea, is Snowden, the highest mountain in England, and 
Wales, which is visible on clear days. 



My own experience of this I really cannot tell, 

For, queer though 't is, I 've never had to, for the shortest 

spell ; 
l!ut others of the family, they know it all too well — 
For me, they 're waiting ! 

For instance, in the morning when I slowly dress with 

When I 'm putting on my blouse or am tying up my hair, 
A voice is often apt to come floating up the stair ■ — 
" Your breakfast 's waiting ! " 

And say, just when 
we're taking notes 
(in history 
p'r'aps) at school, 

When I cannot find my 
pencil, and a line 
I want to rule, 

Our teacher then in- 
forms me, in ac- 
cents — slightly 
That she " is 
waiting! " 

Now this is really 

shocking, and dis- 
credit it, you may, 

Rut if I 'm getting 

ready to go out to 
tea one day, 

1 'm not at all surprised 
if a message 
comes to say 
That tea is waiting! 

That these are merel.y 
" tales," now, I 
really won't 

For Mother says 

they 're true, that 
my habits I must 

But now I '11 bid " Adieu 



" for I must quickly end- 

The postman 's waiting ! 


I WAS looking forward with great excitement for the com- 
ing of the noon train, which was to bring four entire 
strangers to our house. They were between the ages of 
twelve and sixteen, and were to arrive here directly from 
Germany. While I was helping our maid put the finish- 
ing touches on the room, I was called down-stairs and 
found the guests already assembled, as they came on an 
earlier train than I expected. Father and Mother were 




both out driving, and none of my guests could speak Eng- 
lish, nor I German, so I made a motion for them to take 
off their coats and hats and escorted them to their rooms. 
My parents arrived soon after and both being able to 
speak German, we had no more trouble in that direction. 
The German friends remained with me for four months and 


enjoy her outing, and since then I have never seen any 
one so happy for any length of time as was that little girl 
during most of her stay. When she went away I felt well 
satisfied with the decision I had made. 

"To-day Miss Chapman is a useful Christian woman 
who does a great deal for the people of the slums. I saw 
her not long ago, and she told me 
that she regards the weeks spent 
with me in the country as the turn- 
ing-point of her life." 



Summer, sunny summer, 
Thou time of all the year ! 

1 've waited, and I 've waited, 

For thy beauty^to draw near. 

I long to see your twitt'ring birds, 
I long to hear them sing. 

I 've waited through the winter 
For the gladness you will bring. 

When first the robin's red I see, 
When first the flowers blow, 

I know that in a little while 
Old winter has to go. 

And then the world rejoices, 
For it knows that it is spring; 

For it 's waited just as I have 
To hear the robins sing. 

in that time we had all sorts of fun, all of which was new 
to my friends. They soon learned my language enough 
to understand me and I learned theirs. When the time 
came that they must depart, I felt very sorry, but I have 
heard from them a great deal, as Papa translates the let- 
ters ; and in most of them they remind me of how I greeted 
them when they first arrived. 



It was the story-hour and Mrs. Jones was about to tell her 
daughter of a choice she had made, long before, between 
going visiting and receiving a visitor. 

" Once when I was your age," she began, " and we 
were spending the summer at our country home, Mother 
told me about the sufferings of children in the slums, and 
suggested that we have a little fresh-air girl come to spend 
a few weeks with us. I was pleased, and anxious to send 
for her at once, but unforeseen occurrences interfered, and 
it was only two weeks before we were to be back in the 
city that Mother said she would write at once asking that 
the little girl come. 

" However, the same day a letter from my aunt arrived 
inviting me to her home. As I considered her the most 
charming woman in the world, with the exception, of 
course, of my own mother, the invitation made me almost 
wild with joy. 

" But suddenly I remembered that if I accepted there 
would be no time left for entertaining the guest I had 
planned to have. ■ Mother told me I must decide what I 
would do myself. That night I thought for a long time 
before going to sleep. It was a hard struggle, but the 
next day I had made my choice between being a visitor and 
having one. I would decline my aunt's invitation. 

"A few days later a pale, wistful-looking child named 
Mary Chapman came to our home. Soon she began to 
Vol. XXXVII. -108. 

And when sweet spring is here, 
I know that summer 's nigh ; 

For I 've waited, and I 've waited, 
To hear Jack Frost's " Good-by.' 

O Summer, when you really come, 

How happy I shall be; 
For winter will have really gone 

When you come back to me. 



I 'VE waited long and 
A silver badge to gain, 
Have strived my very 
But, seemingly, in vain. 

I 've tried my skill at draw- 
But, naturally, that failed ; 
Did many a little bit of prose 
On which my hopes were 

But the prose seemed worse than 

And at last, quite in despair, 
I settled down to poetry, 

An occasion for me most rare ! 

But there 's lots of fun in trying, 
That 's a simple thing to do; 

And I '11 keep on waiting, waiting, 
Others have to do that, too. 










No. 1128. President, Annabel Wood; Vice-President, Ethelwyn 
Sites; Secretary, Carol Chase; Assistant Secretary, Esther Patterson; 
Chairman, Edna Zirkle; twenty-three members. 

No. ii2Cj. "The Princeton Juniors." President, Albert Shanes; 
Vice-President, Secretary, and Treasurer, Max Halpern ; Captain and 
Athletic Manager, Charles Lipkin ; ten members. 

No. 1 130. "Garrick Club." President, Dorothy Rankin; Vice- 
President, Marjory Boyns; Secretary, Sarah Wright; five members. 

No. 1131. President, Max Browner; Secretary, Benjamin Browner; 
eight members. 

No. 1132. "The Hand of Justice." President, Medler Williams; 
Secretary, Eugene Lombard; twelve members. 

No. 1133. President, Israel Weissman ; Vice-President, Samuel 
Bernhard; Secretary and Treasurer, Charles Sarna ; nine members. 

No. 1134. President, Ethel Kee; Vice-President, Ellen Smith; Sec- 
retary, Ethel Bare ; thirteen members. 

No. 1135. President, Esther Keehn ; Secretary, Ernest Hiser; 
Treasurer, Bessie Burkholder ; seventy-two members. 

No. 1136. President, Laura Hofer; Vice-President, Marion Piatt; 
Secretary, Anna Grand; eight members. 

No. 1137. "Athenian Club." President, Grace Burke; Secretary, 
Estelle A. Randall ; seven members. 

No. 1138. "The Bookworms." Secretary, Susan Shaffer; eight 

No. 1139. President, I. Weissman; Vice-President, J. Rosengard ; 
Secretary, B. Weiss; Treasurer, Henry H. Nussbaum ; Literary 
Chairman, B. Ferber; eleven members. 


No. i. A list of those whose work would have been used had space 

No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to encouragement. 


L. Adrienne Evans 
Winona Jenkins 
Esther W. Thomson 
Alleen Bower 
R. Louise Cone 
Harriet Ruth Tedford 
Irene Rueger 
Jenny Agnes Heyne 
Mary Lee Thurman 
Eleanor Copeland 
Marian Baker 
Margaret E. Beakes 
Alice F. Griffin 
Anna Dorothy Bruns 
Manuel Mowra 
Marian L. Sharpe 
Grace Baldwin 
Dorothy Southam 
Burwell Brown 
Rosamond Crawford 
Florence Hildechan 

L. Elizabeth Barbour 
Helen Gantz 

Lilian Palmer 
Madeleine Thayer 
Helene Birgel 
Elizabeth McAllaster 
Gwendoline E. Keene 
Edith M. Levy 
Thelma G. Williams 
Elizabeth Whynman 
Helen Pouder 
Sanford Campbell 
Winifred Sackville 

Adeline MacTier 
Ralph W. Peters 
Stella Green 
Laura Paris 
Mary Daboll 


Margaret Barker 
Mildred Roberts 
Lilian E. Deghuee 
Mittie Clark 
C. Ruth Brown 
Beryl Varnell 

Phyllis H. Perlman 
Marie F. Maurer 
Dorothy M. Borrowes 
Charles H. McCauley 
Lucile Kepler 
Anna Laura Porter 
F. Isabel Collins 
Dorothy O. Graves 
Kathleen C. Brough 
Dorothy H. Hoskins 
Fritz Korb 
Elsie Daubert 
Rupert Gast 
Chine Walsh 
Beatrice Wineland 
Dorothy Tilton 
Katherine C. Mills 
Ralph W. Lieber 
Frances McConlogue 
Ethel Warren Kidder 
Ethel Feuerlicht 
Rachel Olmstead 
Fannie E. Ruby 
Isobel Maxwell 
Margaret Billingham 
Elizabeth Clay 

Vivian Smith 
Angela Healy 
Beatrice E. Maule 
Beatrice B. Sawyer 
Edith May Maurer 
Marion Cheney 
Billy Stoughton 
Ruth K. Gaylord 
Violet A. Babcock 
Ida May Syfrit 
Ruth Bosley 
Estella Johnson 
Ennis Bryan 
Vera V. Cole 
Marie Melzer 
Hannah Ruley 
Jennie Spindler 
Joseph Lautner 
Mildred Gray Hucker 
Roberta Yates *\gtt 
Nathaniel Howard 
Florence Gallagher 
Hortense Barten 
Bertha R. Titus 
Beryl M. Siegbert 
Lillian A. Cole 
Mamie Urie 
Marjorie Dee Marks 
Norman Stabler 
Helen Page 

Margaret Levi 
Gertrude Wood 
Ethel Hopkins 


Grace N. Sherburne 
Eleanor Johnson 
Isabella Rea 
Hattie Anundsen 
Bertha Walker 
William McBride 
Rose Norton 
Anne Page 
Josephine H. 

Mary Curry 
Katharine R. Welles 
Ruth H. Bugbee 
Gertrude Ragle 
Hilda Sizer 
Banny Stewart 

May Bowers 
Dorothy Kerr Floyd 

Katharine Norton 
LUlie Garmany 

Nora Mcintosh 
Norah Culhane 
Carolyn C. Wilson 
Lucie Marucchi 
Ruth Leipziger 
Bruce T. Simonds 
Beulah Henry 
Marjorie G. Smith 
Jeanne Jacoby 
Ruth Lewinson 
Elizabeth S. Allen 
Lenore Guinzburg 
Portia Bell 
Temple Burling 


Winnifred Ward 
Helmi Niemi 
Roberta Tener 
Sarah Fuchs 
Marian Thanhouser 
Laura E. Hill 
Stanley McHatton 
Louis Tanner 
Alice Morgan 
Frances Dorothea 

Rachel H. Lockner 

Mack * 
Helen A. Babbitt 
Mary Frances Tranter 
Helen Weiser 
Ruth Starr 
Mildred G. Wheeler 
Stella F. Todd 
Isabel Claire Blum 
Mary Jaquelin Smith 
Margaret Harms 
Mary Virginia Doyle 
Ruth S. Coleman 
Delia M. Houston 
Virginia Ivey 
Margaret Rayon 
Vera Nikol 
Helen Totten 
Alice Phelps Rider 
Edna Lyllian Clay 
Linzee Warburton 

Hattie Tuckerman 
Marjorie Davis 

Charles Eckstein 
Eugenia A. Lee 
Ruth S. Mann 
Beatrice Adler 
Annie RadofF 
George R. Spangler 


Audrey G. Hargraves 
Margaret Brate 
Herbert Wagner 
Lily King Westervelt 
Mary Christine 

Alice Bothwell 
Beryl Morse 
Ethel V. Marten 
John B. Hopkins 
Harry Fill 
Grace Wardwell 
Austin S. Roche 
Helen F. Morgan 
Melville P. Cummin 
Christine Rowley 

Margaret A. Foster 
Prunella Wood 
Pauline F. D'Arcy 
Olive Garrison 
Pauline Enrich 
Dora Guy 
Isabelle K. Nicol 
Eric William Passmore 
Willis Keen 
L. William Quanchi 
Dorothy Clement 
Alvah L. Warner 
Minna H. Besser 


Ruth Kintead 
Marian S Bradley 
Helen Stevenson 
Robert Whitford 
Katharine Price 
Eleanor Pollock 
Elsie Buthfer 
Edward Godfrey 
Emily Case 
Henry C. Holt 
Margaret N. Waite 
Kathleen Culhane 
Georgine Dismukes 
Donald Harris 


Theresa R. Robbins 
Louise H. Seaman 
Helen Rembert 

Phcebe Schreiber 

Therese N. McDonnell 
Dorothy G. Stewart 
Beulah E. Amidon 
Lucile Shepard 
Frances G. Ward 

Dorothy Stockbridge 
Frances Wiles 
Philip Joseph 

Margaret E. Cobb 
Laura D. Northrop 
Albert J. Considine 
Josephine S. Wilson 
Kathleen M. 

Vera Nagel 

Grace H. Meeker 
J. V. Newlin 
Needham Tyndale 
Jean Lucile Little 
Virginia Ellingwood 
Ruth Garrigues 
Eleanor Gottheil 
Merrill de Maris 
Louesa Pauline 

Jennie E. Everden 

The work of examining the thousands of contributions received 
will be greatly facilitated if each contributor will observe the 
League rules and have his or her name, address, parent's en- 
dorsement, etc., on the contribution itself, and if a drawing or 
photograph, on the front margin or anywhere on the back, in- 
stead of in a separate letter. We must insist upon this rule. 




J. Donnell Tilghman 
Ward Cheney 
Rutherford White 
Lily A. Lewis 
Marie Kaan 
Hardy Luther 
Harriet L. Aiken 
Katherine Smith 
Frank Simpson 
Ethel Rowe 
Katharine Chroab 
Lester Parker 
Augusta L. Burke 
Florence Huestis 
Vivienne Collister 
Muriel Colgate 
Charles Bryan Bailey 
Kathryn R. 

Clarence Jackson 
Leonora Howarth 
Velma Dorothy 

Marshall Williamson 
Edith M. Reynaud 
Mildred Graham 
David McDougal 
Sibyl Ellen Carson 
Frances M. Southard 
Margery Ragle 
Eloise Koch 
Louise Marshall 
James B. Ganly 
Marian Bettman 
Grace Clemente 
Jean Dorchester 
Charles Baskerville 
Agnes I. Prizer 
Dorothy A. Brown 
John Schlesselman 
George T. Flagg 
Chrystine J. Wagner 
Dorothy Hughes 
Shirley May Bruce 

Esther C. Lanman 

Genevieve K. Hamlin 

Fernando Faucher 
Louise Cross 

Marjorie Gibbons 
Alison Kingsbury 

Lillian Freeman 

M. Alline Weeks 

Virginia Duncan 

Helen Otis 

Emily R. Kurtz 

A. Frances Lamb 

Catharine F. Playle 

Stella Grier 

Ida M.Packard 

William Billingheimer 

Dorothy Annable 

Kate W. Griffin 

Doris L. Glover 

Emma Stuyvesant 


Shirley Gill Pettus 

Helen Rand 

Olive N. Deane 

Frances Hale Burt 

Clara Buthfer 

Julia M. Herget 

Martha E. Whittemore 

Elva D. Staples 

D. Rutherford Collins 

John C. Farrar 

Jean Hopkins 

Charles W. Meyers 
George Loring Porter, 

Ethel King 
Edgar Marburg, Jr. 
Maithol H. 

Gladys Stephenson 
Alexander Nussbaum 
Theodora Martin 
Charles H. Bell 
S. Hutton Wendover 
Frances Kostal 
Florence L. Bentz 
Vernet Lee 
Margaret B. 

Elizabeth H. Coley 
Mary Home 
Alice Whelan 
Harold Thornton 
Bodil Hornemann 
Estelle Spivey 
Dorothy Greene 
Ralph Linn 
James Gore King, Jr. 
Martha Mary Seeley 
Webster Nicoll 
Carl E. Ohlsoon 
Kathryn Johnstone 
Helen Underwood 
Pearl Tweeden 
Mary H. Pope 
Joyce Armstrong 
Robert Maclean 
Fanny Tomlin 

Ruth Streatfield 
Dorothy Belasco 
Katharine H. 

Charlotte J. Tougas 


Julia I. Ramsey 
Fritz V. Hartman 
Chester H. Menke 
Margaret Phillips 
Anna Halstead 

de Lancey 
Hubert K. Gronlun 
Clara H. Grover 
Esther Huger 
Dorothy Mayer 
Faith S. Harrington 
Julia C. Ball 
Harriet Anna 

de Lancey 
Ethel Knowlson Caster 
Elizabeth A. Kearney 
Landis Barton 
Elise De Ronde 
Marian L. Flavel 
Marian G. Howard 
Margaret Lindabury 
Emily P. Welsh 


William Kakilty 
Helene M. L. Grant 
Anne Abbott 
Catharine C. Taussig 
Eleanor Wills 
Amy H. Requa 
Emerson H. Virden 

Tudie Mellichampe 
Henry Jameson 
Isabella Moore 
Sarah Stiles 
Priscilla W. Smith 
Von McConnell 
Florence Mars 
Florence Speyers 
Mary Bell Higgins 
Herbert Weidenthal 
W. Robert Reud 
Margaret Southam 
Edward D. Wines 
C. P. Reynolds 
F. Reeves Ruttledge 
Wentworth Williams 
Constance G. Wilcox 
Katharine W. V. R. 

Sarah E. Elmer 
Ernest Thiele 
Elizabeth Bowersock 
Raymond Ford 
Katherine Thomas 
Jim Wyse 

Helen F. Batchelder 
Max S. Muench 
Katharine Ritchey 
Dorothy L. 

Arthur Bateman 
Winnifred Campbell 
Wessie M. Shippen 


Valerie Raas 
Susan Adger 

Harriet Henry 
Julia F. Brice 
J. S. Harlow, Jr. 
N. Tiffany 
Cassius M. Clay, Jr. 
Emily P. Eaton 
Duncan Scarborough 
Stanley Daggett 
Joseph Trombetti 
Margaret L. Sayward 
Ewart Judson 
HarrietteH. Shields 
Mary Green Mack 
Dorothy B. Leake 
Alfred W. Swan 
Helen Dirks 
Hazel Jurgensen 
Dolores Ingres 
Arthur Blue 
Susie M. Williams 
Marie Frey 


Brayton Blake 
Ruth M. Carter 
Harry Collins 
Elly Martens 
Wallace L. Cassell 
Rebecca S. Janney 
George D. Stout 
Dorothy Wilcox 
Oliver D. Wells 
Cornelia M. Stabler 
John L. Baxter 
Bessie Blocker 
Eleanora May Bell 
Eloise Hazard 
Ruth Kohlmetz 


A list of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and 
could not be entered for the competition : 

LATE. Sara E. Armstrong, Alice D. Laughlin, Irene Myers, 
John Barbey Lewis, Helen E. Himmelsbach, Marjorie Brown, Dorothy 
A. Brown, Elizabeth Smith, Dorothy Helen Allen, Caroline Parker, 
Helen F. Dunn, A. De Bourg Fees, Loretta Smith. 

NO AGE. Minerva Lewis, Ethel du Pont Barkesdale, Helen A. 
Brault, Anne E. Wilson, Francis M. Farish, Elsie Jarvis, Doris S. 
Patee, Henrietta H. B. Sturgis, John S. Jenkins, Louise M. Rose, 
Deane H. Uptegrove, John S. Jenkins, Roger L. Rothwell. 

NOT INDORSED. Anna Clarke, Esther Wendt, Marion Mc- 
Leod Thompson, Irma Francois Sarot, Morris Romonafsky, Robert 

Donaldson, Emile Kostal, Louis Akerstrom, John W. Mantz, Hope 
Thomas Gravely, Dorothy Nes, Margaret Edmonds, Hugh McKay. 

INCOMPLETE OR NO ADDRESS. Jacques Wolfe, Dorothy C. 
Snyder, Adeline Hatch, Thelma N. Sanborn, Anne Abbott, Margaret 
Borland, Louise Collins, Helen Miller, Mary Clark, Christian Weyand, 
Dean B. Lynam, Jr., Wilton N. Eddy, J. O'Grady, William H. de 

WRITTEN ON BOTH SIDES. Herbert B. Pawson. 

PENCIL. Earl Richard Dickson, Lois C. Myers, William Albert 
McManus, Elizabeth Clarke Kieffer, Sherwood Lanigan, Ruth Eliza- 
beth Dewsbury, Margaret Hannay, Arthur Hannay, Virginia Rudolph. 

WRONG SUBJECT. Lauren Wright, Joseph Glasgow. 

COLOR. Lydia Gardner. 


The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges 
each month for the best original poems, stories, draw- 
ings, photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, oc- 
casionally, cash prizes of five dollars each to a gold-badge 
winner who shall, from time to time, again win first place. 

Competition No. 129 will close July 10 (for foreign 
members July 15). Prize announcements will be made 
and the selected contributions published in St. Nicholas 
for November. 

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. 
Subject, "Water." 

Prose. Story or article of not more than three hundred 
and fifty words. Subject, "Water." 

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue 
prints or negatives. Subject, "Water." 

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. 
Subject, " Water," or a Heading or a Tail-piece for 

Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an- 
swer in full, and must be indorsed. 

Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set 
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas. 
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on 
the first page of the " Riddle-box." 

Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur- 
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The 
prizes in the "Wild Creature Photography" competition 
shall be in four classes, as follows : Prize, Class A, a 
gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold 
badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge. 
Prize, Class D, a silver badge. But prize-winners in this 
competition (as in all the other competitions) will not receive 
a second gold or silver badge. 

Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re- 
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed 
and stamped envelop of the proper size to hold the manu- 
script, drawing, or photograph. 


Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not, 
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and 
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who 
has reached the age of eighteen years may compete. 

Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the 
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as 
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be 
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied, 
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the 
number of words should also be added. These things must 
not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itself — 
if manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, on the 
margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper 
only. A contributor may send but one contribution a 
month — not one of each kind, but one only. 
Address : The St. Nicholas League, 

Union Square, New York. 



Have not many of you boys and girls at some 
time in your lives been confronted by an emer- 
gency which you have met successfully, either 
because you remembered reading of the way 
some one else met a similar difficulty, or because 
you invented some little short cut which helped 
out? Perhaps you may have contrived some in- 
genious toy or home-made device that has proved 
a time- or labor-saver with the camera, in camp 
or in the home circle, or perhaps you have dis- 
covered original ways of earning money, or of 

In any case, here are a few suggestions of this 
sort from young folks or their parents that may in- 
terest many boys and girls, and perhaps set their 
wits to working in some emergency to devise for 
themselves a satisfactory solution to the problem, 
whatever it may be. 


We boys never had a satisfactory place for our 
muddy rubbers until my brother brought home the 
following idea from boarding-school. We took 
two boards about three feet long and ten inches 
wide, and put them together with six partitions, 


as shown in the sketch. This made pockets about 
six inches long, two inches wide at the bottom 
and five inches at the top. This shoe-rack may 
be placed on the wall of the clothes-closet, but is 
better in the shed or on the back porch, where the 
dirt can fall through to the floor and be easily 
swept up. It beats dirty cloth shoe-bags, and 
pawing around the floor of dark closets, all to 
pieces. R. R. 


Instead of buying yards of narrow ribbon for 
tying Christmas packages we have found a much 
more satisfactory substitute. We buy ten cents' 
worth each of scarlet and green raffia. We take 
a strand of each color and put them together as 
one string to tie a package. It is light and strong 

enough to go safely through the mails and gives 
a very Christmasy effect. All our large family 
draw on the general supply, but, like the widow's 
cruse of oil, it seems to outlast every emergency. 
It is also pretty for tying gifts to the Christmas 
tree, the bright colors increasing the festive ap- 
pearance. C. G. 

When thick-stemmed flowers, such as daffodils, 
tulips, or iris, refuse to stand upright, try putting 
a napkin-ring in the bottom of the vase. This 
will center the flowers nicely, make them stand 
erect as though growing, and make a much more 
artistic, Japanese-y arrangement. F. L. M. 

The emergency came, and alas ! I was not mis- 
tress of the situation. Company was on the way, 
and the mayonnaise, for which I hitherto had had 
such a reputation, took this occasion to curdle 
hopelessly. Worst of all, there were no more 
eggs, so I could not "begin again with a fresh 
egg," as the cook-book so blandly advised. Then 
Grandma came to the rescue with a lump of ice 
as large as her dear fist. Through my tears I 
saw her rub the ice quickly through the mayon- 
naise, take it out at the end of two or three min- 
utes, then stir the dressing very briskly, and lo ! 
it had become as stiff, smooth, and golden as one 
could wish. B. F. 

My thoroughbred dog is not allowed to have meat 
often, yet he turns up his aristocratic nose at 
'most everything- else. So now we keep on hand 
a food suggested by our kind "vet," and made as 
follows : we get a soup-bone and boil it as for 
soup. When slow cooking has extracted all the 
juices from it, we take the bone from the broth, 
remove the meat, chop it fine, and return to the 
soup. We then stir in enough corn-meal to make 
a thick mush, and set it aside to cool. When cold, 
we cut in slices, and feed it as required. If Lad- 
die won't eat it, then we know that he is n't really 
very hungry. G. K. 

Sometimes after oiling the sewing-machine we 
are dismayed to find grease-spots on our fine 





work. At first we could not account for it, be- 
cause we knew that we had carefully wiped off 
every oiled place. One day I happened to notice 
the oil-can of a machinist who was repairing our 
lawn-mower. His can 
had an ordinary washer, 
as in the sketch, on 
the spout to prevent any 
oil running down outside 
the can on to the table 
or bench wherever it 
happened to be put. As 
our mysterious spots had 
probably come from the 
drop-leaf of the machine, 
where we had always 
placed the can while 
cleaning off the holes, I 
promptly decorated our can with a small washer, 
and have had no trouble since. V. S. 


I wonder if some of the country or suburban devo- 
tees of St. Nicholas would not be interested in 
our simple method of getting rid of a stubborn 
stump. First we bore a large hole, about one 
inch, in the soft wood stump in a downward di- 
rection, to a depth of sixteen or twenty inches. 
We then fill this hole with kerosene, and as the 
oil penetrates the wood, fill the hole again. After 
each filling we cork the hole with a rough wooden 
plug, and at the end of a month or two apply fire 
to the oil in the hole, which entirely consumes the 
stump. A. N. R. 


Grandma's ball of knitting-yarn kept tumbling 
out of her lap and rolling to far-away places. 
After I had picked it up five or six times, I got 
the best of that ball in this way : I found a paper 
bag in the kitchen, and turned the top back to 
form a sort of smooth-edged collar. Then, after 
Grandma had dropped her ball inside, I pinned 
the bag to her dress, and now we both find it a 
most convenient arrangement. Kitty, however, 
misses a plaything for which she was always on 
the lookout. H. R. 


Do you know what a beautiful table centerpiece 
may oftentimes be made of wild flowers? The 
prettiest ones that we had last summer were made 
of that dainty variety of carrot known as queen's- 
lace, and the roadside snapdragon which we chil- 

dren called butter-and-eggs. Sometimes we varied 
it by substituting the feathery green top of gar- 
den asparagus or some belated daisies, blue rag- 
ged-robins, or scarlet fireweed. The wild carrot 
harmonized with everything, would stay lovely a 
week at a time, and was always a dainty delight. 

S. L. 


Here 's my way of making a circle ; it beats the 
old lead-pencil-and-string way, all to pieces : I 
use a pin as a pivot and substitute for the string 
a strip of smooth, heavy paper which will not 
stretch as string does,— and the result is a quickly 
made, really-truly circle. J. E. M. 


When the gas-jet leaks so badly that professional 
aid is needed to repair it, rub the soft part of 
common hard soap vigorously into the leaky crack, 
and the emergency will be tided over until the 
fixture man comes. H. G. L. 


When very little children visit our bibless house- 
hold, we tie a knot in one corner of their napkin, 
tuck it inside the little neck-band, and find that it 
always holds the improvised bib in place. Some- 
times it is a little difficult to get the knot inside, 
but once there, it is there to stay. C. 


When bathing in the ocean last summer my hair 
always got wet. As I did n't like to have the wet 
ends blowing around 
my face while drying, 
I met the emergency by 
first rubbing my head 
as dry as I could, and 
then tying on a bathing- 
hat which had lost its 
crown. Then I just 
pulled my long, wet hair 
through the place where 
the crown ought to 
have been, letting it 
hang till dry. I confess 
to not being a very 

charming-looking maid in that guise, so I made 
drying-time letter-writing time, and managed to 
keep pretty well up with my correspondence while 
sitting by a sunny, breezy window in my room. 

J. B. N. 



Toronto, Ont. 
Dear St. Nicholas : This is the third year that I have 
taken you. I have taken a greater interest in the stories 
by Ralph Henry Barbour, the "Betty" Stories, and the 
"Young Railroaders " than any others. 

At Christmas I was given a story called " Lady Jane" 
that used to be in St. Nicholas a number of years ago, 
which I enjoyed very much. 

A few months ago the play called "The Little Pilgrim's 
Progress," from St. Nicholas, was given at our church 
anniversary ; although we did not have the scenery or wear 
the costumes, still it was very pretty. The little girl who 
was to take the part of the Little Pilgrim was ill, so another 
girl had to take her place, although she only had one day to 
learn the part, but she did it very well. I remain, 
Your loving reader, 

Doris Walker (age 12). 

Here is a charming little elephant story taken from the 
" London Times." What a splendid example of fidelity 
that may well inspire even human beings! 


Of the docility of the elephant there is no need to multiply 
examples. It is said that in India native women some- 
times, when called away, intrust their babies to the care of 
" The Handed One," confident that they will be safe and 
tenderly handled. But of all elephant stories, surely the 
finest is that which tells how the standard-bearing elephant 
of the Peishwa won a great victory for its Mahratta lord. 
At the moment when the elephant had been told to halt, 
its mahout was killed. The shock of battle closed around 
it, and the Mahratta forces were borne back ; but still the 
elephant stood, and the standard which it carried still flew, 
so that the Peishwa's soldiers could not believe that they 
were indeed being overcome, and, rallying in their turn, 
drove the enemy backward till the tide swept past the 
rooted elephant and left it towering colossal among the 
slain. The fight was over and won, and then they would 
have had the elephant move from the battle-field, but it 
waited still for the dead man's voice. 

For three days and nights it waited where it had been 
told to remain, and neither bribe nor threat would move it, 
till they sent to the village on the Nerbudda, a hundred 
miles away, and fetched the mahout's little son, a round- 
eyed lisping child, and then at last the hero of that day, 
remembering how its master had often in brief absence 
delegated authority to the child, confessed its allegiance, 
and, with the shattered battle-harness clanging at each 
stately stride, swung slowly along the road behind the 

London, England. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I have just come back from a trip 
to Europe, and I am sure it would interest your readers to 
hear about it. First I went to Rome, Italy, and I stayed 
there about ten days ; I liked Rome very much on account 
of its lovely old ruins. The day after I arrived I went to 
see the Colosseum, which is the largest theater in the world, 
and then to the Forum Romanum, which was very inter- 
esting, there was such a lot of old ruins ; but the thing I 
liked best was the catacombs. From Rome I went to 
Florence, but there was not much to see there but the 
picture-galleries, which I enjoyed very much. And then 
I went to Venice, and that was the place I liked best of all 

my journey. When I arrived it was very late at night, and 
so I got into a gondola and went to the hotel, which was a 
very long way from the station, and I enjoyed it immensely. 
I went to see the Doge's Palace, which was very interesting. 
On my way to Lucerne, Switzerland, I stopped the night 
in Milan to see the lovely cathedral. When I arrived in 
Lucerne it was a beautiful day, and the hotel I stayed at 
was just on the Lake of Lucerne, so it was very nice. 
From Lucerne I stopped at Paris on my way back to Eng- 
land, where I intend to stay in school until the end of July, 
then I am going back to Montreal again. 
I am your devoted reader, 

Alice Ross (age 16). 

New York City, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have taken you for nearly two 
years, and have enjoyed you thoroughly. 

In the country we have eight pigeons. We intend to tame 
them, I don't quite know how yet. 

We have bunnies, too. They eat out of our hands. Last 
autumn Mother gave us two foreign bunnies, one for each. 
This winter the two bunnies had children. 

I should have said before that these bunnies have black 
ears, noses, paws, and tails. When their children were 
young they had white ears, noses, paws, and tails. After- 
ward they grew black. Is n't that queer ? 

Whenever you come I am very happy ; you are so inter- 
esting that I wish you came oftener. 

From your faithful and devoted reader, 

Katherine Mackay (age 10). 

Toronto, Canada. 
Dear St. Nicholas : No mere letter can express my de- 
light, astonishment, and pride, on receiving your notice 
and later the never-to-be-forgotten honor of the silver 
badge ; and my delight was much increased by the fact that 
it was only my second composition on entering the League. 
I am twelve now. My sister Marjorie was so tickled with 
my ear-to-ear grin all day after I received your notice, that 
she actually photographed me ! Of course I had dreamed 
dreams, but had no more idea of their coming true than the 
small boy had of his soaring ideas, in the shape of being 
told he was credited with a million dollars, or that he had 
been made heir to a throne, but I can assure you that the 
proverbial small boy's dreams, even if they had come true, 
could not give him as much delight as the silver badge has 
given me. 

I thought it might interest you to know that I got my 
name from the St. Nicholas. When Mother was small, 
there was a serial running in the magazine called " Donald 
and Dorothy," and she was so much delighted with the 
story and the names that she never forgot them ; and when 
she grew up and was married, she named my brother 
Donald and myself Dorothy, as it is in the story. I 
wonder if many other League members got their names 
from St. Nicholas. 

When Mother was small there was no League, and I am 
sure it has made a big difference for the better in the 
magazine, and I enjoy it thoroughly and much more so 
now that I am a " badgelet " as Don calls me. 

With many thanks, and all good wishes for the other 
members, I remain, 

Yours sincerely, 

Dorothy H. Hoskins. 
P.S. I shall always wear your beautiful badge. 


Diagonal. Shakespeare, i. Susquehanna. 2. Physiognomy. 

Hyacinthine. 4. Workmanship. 5. Imprecation. 6. Diversities. 

Biographies. 8. Disrespects. 9. Counterpart. 10. Wilkesbarre. 

Double Curtailings. 
Numerical Enigma. 

1. Ida-ho. 2. Den-se. 3. And-es. 

' The quality of mercy is not strained." 

Illustrated Numerical Enigma. " Let not your sail be bigger 
than your boat." 

Charade. Hu-mil-i-ate. 

Novel Acrostic. Initials, Napoleon ; Third row, Waterloo. 
Cross-words: 1. News. 2. Alas. 3. Pets. 4. Omen. 5. Lore. 6. 
Eels. 7. Odor. 8. Nook. 

3. King's Move Puzzle. Begin at J in the lowest line : J. Fenimore 

7. Cooper; The Last of the Mohegans ; TheDeerslayer; The Pathfinder ; 
[i. The Pioneers ; The Pilot; The Wept of Wish-ton-wish. 

Triple Beheadings and Curtailings. " Caesar's Gallic Wars." 
r. Dis-cove-red. 2. Sen-at-ors. 3. Att-end-ant. .4. Con-solid-ate. 5. 
Par-all-els. 6. Int-rod-uce. 7. Per-sever-ing. 8. Dia-go-nal. 9. 
Eng-all-ant. 10. Coa-lit-ion. 11. Gal-lop-ing. 12. Reg-is-ter. 13. 
Pre-cur-sor. 14. Way-war-dly. 15. Adv— ant-age. 16. Sur-render-ing. 
17. Sen-sat-ion. 

Connected Squares. I. 1. Apres. 2. Prune. 3. Rupee. 4. 
Eneid. 5. Seeds. II. 1. Parts. 2. Azure. 3. Rupee. 4. Tread. 5. 
Seeds. III. 1. Seeds. 2. Endow. 3. Edile. 4. Dolce. 5. Sweep. 
IV. 1. Sweep. 2. Whale. 3. Eager. 4. Elemi. 5. Peril. V. 1. 
Sweep. 2. Weave. 3. Easel. 4. Event. 5. Pelts. 

To our Puzzlers: Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 10th of each month, and should be 
addressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the April Number were received before April 10 from " Just Two " — Frank M. Rukamp — Frances C. 
Hamlet — Frank Black — Elsie, Lacy, and Tillie — Agnes L. Thomson — Frances Mclver — Judith Ames Marsland — Hamilton Brinsley Bush — 
Marian Shaw — Arnold F. Muhlig — Will Lyman Lloyd, Jr. — " Queenscourt." 

Answers to Puzzles in the April Number were received before April 10 from M. H. Meader, 2 — Edna Meyle, 7 — F. Van Home, 6 — M. C. 
Timpson, 3 — Edith Baumann, 5 — " The Quartette," 9— Horace Rublee, 4. 

Answers to one Puzzle were received from P. Brooks — R. Bosley — H. T. C. Taylor — I. Derickson — M. Kleinecke — D. Dewar — E. Hing- 
man— S. S. Burdett— M. Williams. 


Heat and light caused by burning. 2. A useful metal. 
An open way. 4. Finishes. 



My first is so stupid and slow; 

My last, an assortment complete ; 
In my last some are eager to go, 

And my whole is melodious, sweet. 



My primals name a famous author, and my finals, one of 
his works. ■ 

Cross-words (of equal length) : i. To scatter. 2. An 
island of the West Indies. 3. Once more. 4. A kind of 
whip formerly used for flogging criminals. 5. To follow. 

6. Pertaining to the sun. 7. A famous city. 8. A hap- 
pening. 9. Odor. 10. To keep back. 11. To prevaricate. 

MARJORIE K. gibbons (League Member). 


Example : To an effort add a dish and make a closet. 
Answer, pan-try. 

1. To a line add skins of certain animals, and make a 
trench. 2. To devoured add a tavern, and make inborn. 
3. To a pole add to batter, and make part of a gun. 4. 
To a masculine nickname add part of the head, and make 
acquired by service. 5- To endeavor add to conquer, and 
make stormy. 6. To a rule add not in, and make a robber. 

7. To a color add a rodent, and make a kind of cane. 8. 

To a short sleep add a young goat, and make to steal. 9. 
To a period of time add a great planet, and make a day of 
the week. 

The initials of the new words will spell certain things 
seen on the Fourth of July. 

HARRIET HENRY (League Member). 


{Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

* ■ 9 8 . 21 19 

. #6 . ... 20 . 14 

£. l8 . 22 . 15 . 

* 7 13 ■ 1 10 16 . . 
24 * 12 • ■ 

. x . 17 28 

* 4 . 25 . 26 23 
3 # ■ • ■ ■ 

■ 5 * ■ 2 11 . 27 

Cross-words : 1. A president who was previously governor 
of Tennessee. 2. A vice-president who was previously 
governor of Indiana. 3. A president who appointed 
Daniel Webster secretary of state. 4. A recent vice- 
president. 5. A vice-president under Madison. 6. A 
recent president. 7. The present vice-president. 8. A 
vice-president under Grant. 9. A president who was born 
at Kinderhook. 

Star-path, reading downward, a president who was born 
in April ; from I to 8, another president who was born in 
April; from 9 to 16, a president for one month; from 17 
to 23, a president who died in April, and from 24 to 28, a 
president who was born in April. 






In this puzzle the words are pictured instead of described. 
When the seven objects are rightly named and the words 
written one below another in the order numbered, the cen- 
tral letters will spell the name of a famous battle fought 
about fifty years ago. 



Reading across: I. Left hand (three letters), a mas- 
culine name. 2. Right hand, a Turkish commander. 3. 
Left hand (five letters), certain fruits. 4. Right hand, 
the staff of life. 5. (Eleven letters) The name of a beau- 
tiful rose. 6. Remembered. 7. Enlisting again. 8. A 
Biblical name for a woman. 9. A figure having ten angles. 
10. A bird. 11. To entertain as a compliment. 12. The 
goddess of discord. 13. In heart. 

From 1 to 2, to follow in order; from 3 to 4, a feminine 
name ; from 5 to 6, a flower. 



The problem is to change one given word to another, by 
altering one letter at a time, each alteration making a new 
word, the number of letters being always the same and the 
letters always in the same order. Example: Change lamp 
\o fire in four moves. Answer, lamp, lame, fame, fare, fire. 

1. Change rage to pity in five moves. 

2. Change six to ten in six moves. 

3. Change fiool to sage in six moves. 

4. Change hate to love in four moves. 

5. Change sick to well in four moves. 

6. Change poor to rich in nine moves. 

7. Change brook to river in eighteen moves. 

F. w. 


All of the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below 

another, the diagonal (beginning at the upper, left-hand 
letter and ending with the lower, right-hand letter) will 
spell the name of a place in Pennsylvania where a famous ' 
battle was fought in July. 

Cross-words: i. Lavishness. 2. Tenacious of pur- 
pose. 3. To move backward. 4. Pleasing. 5. One who 
makes money. 6. A dignified calling. 7. Officers of the 
peace. 8. Undecided. 9. A principality which borders 
the Adriatic Sea. 10. Upholding. 

DUNCAN Scarborough (Honor Member). 


All of the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below an- 
other, the initials will spell the name of a famous com- 
poser, and another row of letters, reading downward, will 
name one of his compositions. 

Cross-words: i. Power. 2. To follow. 3. A sim- 
pleton. 4. A little poem intended to be sung. 5. To 
arm. 6. Lends. 7. A twilled woolen cloth. 8. Dis- 
cernment. 9. A vegetable. 10. Songs of praise. II. 
To whinny. 

fanny des jardins (League Member). 


{Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

In solving, follow the above diagram, though the puzzle 
has many more cross-words. 

Cross-words : 1. In right. 2. A couch. 3. An organ. 
4. To draw off. 5. Pieces of baked clay. 6. At no time. 
7. A watery fluid. 8. Report. 9. Virtuous. 10. Garden 
implements. 11. A fruit. 12. Firm. 13. Saltpeter. 14. 
To festoon. 15. Poems. 16. Striking effect. 17. Let- 
tuce. 18. An animal. 19. Eats. 20. Tosendback. 21. 
Favors. 22. Light shelters. 23. To color. 24. A sweet 
liquid. 25. To care for. 26. A sacred song. 27. Fairies. 
28. Measure. 29. A kind of chair. 30. Prices. 31. A 
beverage. 32. A sweet substance. 33. Opportunities to 
buy. 34. Leases. 35. Old. 36. A serf. 37. All. 38. 
Mistake. 39. A pronoun. 40. In right. 

marguerite nevin booth. 



' Allrights secured." 

Specially drawn for Messrs. Pears' by Mr. Walter Crane. 

July 1910 



ry a Kingsford custard 
with tart berries, 
served cold. Or, with 

summer fruits, a delicate sauce or 
cream — easy to make and hard to surpass. 


makes ideal summer desserts— light, 
cooling and easily digested. Kings- 
ford's will help your juicy fruit pies, 
such as rhubarb and cherry. Used 
in the pastry, it keeps the under 
crust dry and tender. 

All these things in Cook Book 
H.H." "What a Cook Ought to Know- 
About Corn Starch"— 168 of the best 
recipes you ever tried. The book is free. 
Send for it. Your name on a post card will 
bring it. 


Oswego, N. Y. 

National Starch Co., Successors 





One Touch of Mennen's Soothes the 
Whole World's Skin 

Positive relief for Prickly Heat, Chafing and Sunburn; 
deodorizes perspiration. For over a quarter of a century 
it has been thestandard toilet preparation. 
Remember to askf or Mennen's, and accept no substitute. 

Sample box for 2c stamp 

GERHARD MENNEN CO. Oraoge Street, Newark, N. J. 

The Pioneer Matters of Talcum Powder 

A Helpful Friend 
In Country House or Camp 


New Edition 

By Mary Ronald 

It tells everything that every 
housewife wants to know — how 
to market economically and well, 
the prime principles of cooking, 
receipts for simple and inexpen- 
sive as well as elaborate dishes, 
invaluable and minute instruc- 
tions for the inexperienced as well 
as the expert cook.- 

The new edition has 100 new and 
novel receipts of special excellence. 
Over 150 illustrations, $2.00 postpaid. 

The Century Co., New York 


Begin the Day 



witH Cream 

is a scientific, partially predigested food, containing the vital 
elements of wheat and barley for rebuilding body and brain. 

It is easily and quickly assimilated, and does not detract 
from the morning's energy as do many other foods which are 
hard to digest. 

Grape-Nuts sustains body and brain in fine fettle for any 
activity the day's business or pleasure may present. 


There 's a Reason" for Grape-Nuts, 

Postum Cereal Company, Limited, Battle Creek, Michigan, U. S. A. 

iii(tMiifiiiitii|^^:7^^m«ii;i\i#iniii)WiMiMMiM\iiiiaMni\iiiMii«si«iMfii i/> 


or the Picnic Basket 
— take Karo along— 

Eat it with biscuit or spread 
on bread. 
Use it for a tea punch— hot or iced 
coffee. Cooling drinks are delicious sweet- 
ened with Karo (See the Book, pages 
26 to 28). Karo agrees with everybody. 



Eat it on Use it for 

Griddle cakes Ginger bread 

Hot biscuit Cookies 

Waffles Candy 

Karo Cook Book — fifty pages, including 
thirty perfect recipes for home candy 
making— Free. Send your name on a post- 
card, today, to 


Dept. H.H. P. 0. Box 161 



Hose Supporter 


is easy, safe and economical ; 
allows the utmost free-j 
dom of movement 
w and is readily 
It interests 
children in 

genuine have 
the Moulded 
Rubber Button, 
and Velvet Grip 
is stamped on 
tbe loops. 


Boston, TJ S.A. 

Sample pair, 

children's size 

(give age), 

mailed on 

receipt of 

16 cents. 

A Rest 

is likely what you 
need most right 
now. Take a real 
rest — and relieve 
all stomach, kid- 
ney and liver 
troubles and indi- 
gestion — at 

French LicK 

West Baden Springs 

Don't suffer from rheumatism either, when you can drink 
the waters at this "America's greatest watering place" — 
unsurpassed by even the most famous Spa in Europe for 
curative qualities. Take a pleasant trip, meet delightful 
people, enjoy ideal, healthful recreation at one of these 
noted resorts. 

Located in Southern Indiana on the Morion . For in- 
formation about rates, etc., address 

FRANK J. REED, General Passenger Agent 
Republic Building, Chicago 






(i CUP) MILK, V 2 LB. ( t CUP) 

Rub enough ripe raspberries through a 
sieve to make one pint of pulp, then dis- 
solve the Gelatine in the milk, add it with 
the sugar, lemon-juice, and whipped cream 
to raspberry mixture. Mix and pour into 
a wet mold, turn out when set. Decorate 
with raspberries and meringues filled with 
whipped cream. 

The Boy 

The Box 

This Highland Laddie has been 
presenting Cox's Gelatine to the 
world for more than 80 years. 

Your mother probably knew Cox's 
Gelatine by the red, white and 
blue Checkerboard Box when 
she was a little girl. Neither its 
dtess nor that of the Boy has 
changed, although its contents 
have been improved and the 
Refined Sparkling Gelatine 
of former years has become 
Cox's Instant Powdered 
Gelatine. This form is 
the most convenient in 
which Gelatine can be 
prepared. Dissolves in- 
stantly in boiling water — no 
soaking, no waiting. Perfectly 
smooth, not grainy or lumpy. 

, Cox's Manual of Gelatine 
Cookery, prepared by an 
American cookingexpert, 
contains more than 200 

Send us your address for a 
Complimentary Copy. Cox's 
Instant Powdered Gelatine 
is sold by all dealers. 

The Book 

The Cox Gelatine Co., 

Dept. "F" 100 Hudson St., New York. N. Y. 
U. S. Distributors for J. & G. Cox, Ltd. 
Edinburgh, Scotland. 

and Best 


Boys & Girls 


5< H V All 

•* Leather 



Will Be Given This Year to the Boys 
and Girls Who Make the Best Draw- 
ings of the Famous RED GOOSE. 

This will be divided into 1 35 prizes, as fol- 
lows: 1st prize, $100; 2d, $50; 3d, $25; 
4th, $ 1 5 ; 5th, $ 1 ; 10 prizes each, $5 ; 
20 prizes each, $2.50; 100 prizes each, 
$ 1 .00, making 1 35 in all. Any boy or girl 
under 1 6 years of age can enter. Contest 
begins at once and ends December 1 , 1910. 
Awards to be made by a committee of five, 
including a famous artist, a magazine pub- 
lisher, a noted advertising man, a shoe man, 
and the editor of a national trade paper. 
Costs absolutely nothing to enter. The only 
requirement is that you make your drawing, 
take it to a retail merchant in your town, 
have him certify to your age, then send to us. 

This drawing contest is conducted in order 
to acquaint every boy and girl in America 
with the famous Red Goose School Shoe, 
"the Finest and Best for Boys and Girls." 

C Enter the RED GOOSE Drawing Con- 
test and try for one of the 1 35 prizes. 
Costs you nothing. Send for details. 

^sbD Send 5 cents in coin or stamps 
for a copy of "The RED GOOSE 
Book," lithographed in seven colors, 
with sixteen poems and many pic- 
tures, by W. W. Denslow. 

Friedman-Shelby Shoe Co. 

All Leather Shoe Makers 
901 St. Charles St., St. Louis, U.S.A. 




BRIGHT-EYED laddie from Illinois writes that 
he has "found a stamp, perforated with queer ob- 
long spaces along the sides, and no perforation whatso- 
ever at either top or bottom of the stamp." This is 
one of the perforations applied, unofficially, by the 
makers of what are known as "mailing-machines." 
Within the past few years there have come upon the 
market two kinds of machines which require stamps 
perforated differently to the ordinary. One kind of 
these machines is for vending stamps — a machine of the 
penny-in-the-slot variety. The other kind, of which 
there are several prominent makes, is for the rapid 
stamping, sealing, counting, and handling of mail, for 
use by firms with a large correspondence. For the use 
and convenience of these several machines, the Post- 
office has issued stamps in three novel ways : in part- 
perforated rolls, either sideways or lengthwise; in im- 
perforated rolls, also either sideways or lengthwise ; and 
in entire imperforated sheets of four hundred stamps 
each. The part-perforated rolls have, of course, the 
regular governmental perforation, either at sides or 
ends, as the case may be. To the other two styles, 
however, there have been applied various unofficial va- 
rieties of perforation to meet the needs of the various 
machines. One make of machine uses stamps imper- 
forate at top and bottom, but with various types of per- 
foration between the stamps : such as seven small 
punctures close together and half-way between top and 
bottom. Later, this same machine perforated with six 
holes, somewhat larger and farther apart than those 
first used. It now perforates with two long, deep, ob- 
long cuts. Another machine used at first a perforation 
consisting of six very large holes near the middle of 
the stamp — the space between these holes has now 
been widened so that they take up nearly the entire 
side of the stamp. Other makes of machines use stamps 
rolled lengthwise, and these show unofficial perforations, 
or separating devices, at top and bottom, instead of 
size. These top and bottom perforations may consist 
of cuts or holes, and sometimes of both. Probably 
other machines will follow with still different methods 
of perforations unofficially applied. Such stamps are 
a very interesting side line of collecting and are well 
worth saving and studying. The only values noted as 
having been used on such machines are the one- two-, 
three-, four-, five-, and ten-cent. The issues represented 
are the 1902 and 1908 issues, together with the Lincoln 
and Alaska issues of 1909. 


ALL stamps should be placed in one's album only 
. with specially prepared "stickers" or "hinges." 
These can be bought from any of our advertisers and 
are to be had in several sizes and of different qualities. 
A good grade of " peelable " hinge is best. As usual 
the higher the price the better the goods. The usual 
way of using these is to bend or crease the hinge into 
two unequal sections, representing roughly one third and 
two thirds of its length. The shorter section is mois- 
tened and attached to the stamp — the other end to the 
album. The hinge is made peelable usually by having 
two coats of mucilage, therefore moisten only slightly 
so as to soften only the first coat. Attach the hinge 
close up to the top of the stamp so that the stamp can 

be easily and readily turned up, either for the purpose 
of inspection or for reading such notations as it may 
seem advisable to the individual collector to make on the 
album space covered by it. Many collectors use this 
concealed space underneath the stamp for noting the 
date purchased, price paid, from whom purchased, 
watermark, perforation, and other interesting data. 
These notes are both interesting and valuable. 

Of late there has been a growing tendency among 
collectors to hinge the stamp, not at the top, but at the 
left side. In this case the hinge is creased in the 
middle. A stamp can be turned up more easily if hinged 
on the long side or axis than if on the short end. 


JTIT^ROM your description the ten-cent 1847 United 
jl JL States is canceled in the usual way with a " bar " 
cancelation, somewhat circular in shape. Stamps of this 
issue are found with three types of cancelation, valued 
in the following order :. pen-marked, bar-type, and town 
cancelation. This latter is the name of a town and city 
in a circle with a date. The bar cancelation was in 
general and wide-spread use, and can be found in black, 
red, and green ink. The first two are about equally 
common, while the green is really scarce and commands 
a much higher price than either of»the others. CThere 
was a four-cent stamp issued by the United States in 
1902, orange-brown in color, bearing the head of Crant, 
and inscribed " series of 1902." The last seven-cent 
stamp was of the issue of 1873. It has been reprinted 
twice, however, once in 1875, and again in 1880. There 
is a stamp catalogue called the "Standard" which 
would give you a vast deal of information and which 
can be bought from any of our advertisers. C.Colum- 
bian stamps which have been hand stamped "T" anil 
" Colon " in a circle are somewhat similar to our own 
postage due stamps. Many letters are received at the 
Post-office in Colon upon which the postage is not 
prepaid. Upon such double rates are charged. The 
stamps representing this charge are placed upon the let- 
ter and struck with an ordinary rubber stamp. It is not 
really a surcharge, but a form of cancelation. It is for 
this reason also that the catalogues do not list these 
stamps. They are mentioned in one of the foreign 
catalogues. CLPrecanceled stamps are stamps upon 
which the cancelation is printed before the stamps are 
affixed. They are used'upon what the department calls 
second-, third-, and fourth-class matter, and can be used 
only upon special application. The name of the city 
and state must be printed on the stamp between two 
heavy black lines with regulation canceling ink. The 
theory of their use is to facilitate the work of the Post- 
office. Permits are taken out mainly by large adver- 
tisers. The advantage to the Post-office is a saving of 
time in canceling a large number of circulars. The 
advantage to the advertiser is that a large number of 
circulars addressed to any city may be safely and se- 
curely packed, going to their destination in an un- 
broken package and arriving in better condition than if 
each circular were stamped in the receiving office and 
made the journey by itself. C[_The collecting of cur- 
rent United States stamps, both used and unused, in 
as many different shades as possible, is indeed an in- 
teresting and inexpensive pastime. The current two- 
cent especially can easily be found in a wide variety of 





to the fine new store, 127 Madison Ave., New York. 

Scotfs Catalogue, 800 pages, paper covers, 60c.; clotli, 75c; post free. 

Albums, 30c. to $55 each. Send for illustrated price-list. 

STAMPS-108 S*Ra^33 

Chile, Japan, curious Turkey, scarce Paraguay, Philippines, 
Costa Rica, West Australia, several Unused, some picture 
stamps, etc., nil for 10c. Big list and copy of monthly 
paper free. Approval sheets, 50% commission. 
SCOTT STAMP & COIN CO., 127 MimIIsoii Ave., New York 


Something entirely new that will interest 
every stamp collector, both old and young. 
Write to-day for a. free Sample Stamp Lesson, 
and find out how to become a philatelist. 

New England Stamp Co., 43 Washington Bldg., Boston, Mass. 

P A D^ A I IVI O Eilch set 5 els.— 10 Luxemburg* 8 Fin- 
DHnUnlllQ laud: 20 Sweden; 15 Russia; 8 'Costa 
Rica; 12 Porto Rico; 8 Dutch Indies; 5 Crete. Lists of 5000 low-priced 
stamps free. CHAMBERS STAMP CO., 

Ill G Nassau Street, New York City. 

STAMPS FREE. 15 all different Canadians, 10 India, and 
catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents, and, when possible, send us 
names, addresses of two stamp collectors. Special Offers, no 
two alike. 50 Spain nc, 40 Japan 5c, 100 U. S. 20c, 50 Australia 
gc, 10 Paraguay 7c, 10 Uruguay 7c, 17 Mexico 10c, 20 Turkey 7c, 
7 Persia 4c. Agents Wanted 50^0 discount. 50 Page List Free. 
HARKS STAMP COMPANY. Dept. V ' Toronto, Canada. 

STAMPS 108 all different, Transvaal. Servia, Bra2il, Peru, 
Cape G. H., Mexico, Natal, Java, etc., and Album, 10c. 1O0O 
Finely Mixed. 20o. 65 different U.S., 25c. 1000 hinges, 5c. 
Agents wanted, 50 per cent. List Free. I buy stamps. 
C. Stegman, 5941 Cote Brilliante Av„ St. Louis, Mo. 


100 diff. scarce Shanghai. Honduras, etc., only 5c. 
lull diff. U. S.,only SfJc., big bargain J UKW finely 
mixed, 15c. Hundreds of bargains! Agts. wtd. 
50%. List free. L. B v Dover, St. Louis, Mo. 

Stamps Free! i>ut"i"Vn«ii« 

* free if you set 

Persia, 3 China, 4 
ies. One of these sets 
send for approvals. Big 
bargain lists, price lists, etc., free. We have an njirpense stock. 

Stamp Album with 538 genuine Stamps, feci. 

Rhodesia, Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania (land- 
scape), Jamaica(waterfalls), etc., only 10c. loo diff .'Japan, 
India, N. Zld., etc., Sc. Agts. wtd. 50%.- Big bargain 
list, coupons, etc., all Free! We 1 Buy Stamps. 
C. E. Hussman Stamp Co., Dep. I, St. Louis, Mo. 

5U«miI/»*!«« DCDII C»a with Trial Approval Sheets. 
Varieties rXHU Tree F. E. THORP, Norwich, N. Y. 

SSI STAMPS: 105 China, Egypt, etc., stamp dictionary and list 3000 
[HI bargains 3c-. Agents, 50%. A. Billiard <fc Co., Sta. A., Boston. 

DANDY PACKET STAMPS free, for names two honest collec- 
tors; 2c postage. Send to-day. U.T. K. STAMP CO., Utica, N.Y. 


KING'? UFSnC in lar S est variety, 

nillU O riLHUO illustrated catalog British Colonials 

Queen's Heads. Send for 
ritish Colonials. 7 Malta 
10c, 7 Mauritius luc, 3 So. Nigeria 10c, 5 Malay lnc, 9 Trinidad l"c, 
8 W. Australia 10c, 10 Cape Hie, 7 Ceylon lMc, 27 India 30c, 12 Straits 
20c, 6 Lagos 22c. Colonial Stamp Co., 350 53d St., Chicago. 

Stamps Free 

100 all different for the names of two collectors 
and 2c. postage. 2<) different foreign coins, 25c. 
TOLEDO STAMP CO., Toledo, Ohio.U.S. A, 

Ctamnc ion Varieties Forfk.x, Fkee. Postage 2c. Mention St. 
OldlfipS Nicholas. QUAKER STAMP CO., Toledo, Ohio. 


(1st Class) Jp J. A 

5 1-3 days from San Francisco 

The splendid twin-screw steamer Sierra (10,000 tons displacement) 
sails from San Francisco July 9, July 30, and every 21 days. Round trip 
tickets good for 4 mos. Honolulu, the most attractive spot on entire 
world tour. Volcano Kilauea now unusually active. Line to Ta- 
hiti and New Zealand . S.S. Mariposa, connecting with Union 
Line, sails August 6, etc. Tahiti and back (24 days) $125. New Zealand 
(Wellington) $246.25, 1st class, round trip, 6 mos. Book Now. 

Oceanic S. S. Co., 673 Market St., San Francisco, Cal. 


complete for ascen- 
sion is only 30 cents 

The novelty of the day. sails like a 
real one. Easy to operate with our 
simple directions. Affords amusement 
for young and old. Send for one. 

5'A ft. 30c: 8 ft. 60c, postpaid; 
12 ft. by express, $1.00. 

ir89EllaSt. Cinii, Ohio 



Which Will Spare Your Purse 
While Pleasing Your Friends 

A Miniature Monkey Wrench of 
Perfect Design and Workmanship. 
Price 25 cents each, postpaid. 

Do not send coin. It is liable to loss in the 
mails. Send stamps, postal note or check 

T30 Hast 20th Street New York 

1847 ROGERS BROS.® xs 

'Silver Plate that Wears" 


The famous trade mark " 1 847 ROGERS 

on spoons, forks, knives, etc., guarantees th_ 
heaviest triple plate. Send for catalogue "U 5." 

(International Sliver Co., Successor) 
Chicago MERIDEN, CONN. San Francisco 




Report on Competition No. 101, which is number three in the "Model House" Advertising 
Competition, the first being announced last October and the second one last February. 

The work in this competition was as a whole very clever, but the judges wish to say a word of 
remonstrance to those of you who made a frieze around the top of the drawing-room, and did 
not hesitate at putting spools, cats, Quakers' heads, and sewing-machines, to swell the total 
of the clippings. 

Several of you forgot to send lists of the articles used in your rooms or sent them separately, 
so that they were lost. The above picture would have won first prize but the list was not 
fastened to it and was probably lost in the mail. It seemed a great pity when so much faithful 
work had been expended, to lose the reward, but the judges had no alternative. 

The prizes were as a rule awarded to those who had the most articles well arranged in good 
perspective. Several little things were very clever, as, in one instance, a tipped chair had been 
pasted into a man's hand in such a way that he seemed to be dragging it across the floor of a 
most attractive corner filled with young ladies. It was wonderful that in some of the pictures 
so large a number of advertisements could have been placed in so small a space without con- 
fusion, and you deserve great credit for the time and pains which you must have spent. The 
rules of the competition were more closely followed than usual as to names, ages, addresses, etc., 

',See also pages 13 and 14.) 



etc., and altogether, the judges state that Competition No. 101 was most interesting and satisfactory. 




Louise Arbogast 


Age 8 

180 Articles 



Margaret Storrs 


" 9 


t i 


Magel Wilder 

Rhode Island 

" 12 




Hope Day 


" 9 




Dorothy Bulkley 


" i5 




Bernice H. Cota 


" 18 




Trenchard More 


" IO 

170 li 

t t 

1 1 

Helen K. McHarg 

New York 

" 9 


i i 

1 1 

Perry Schofield 

New Jersey 

" IO 

1 00 ' ■' 


1 1 

Jeannette Kletzing 


" 14 




Elizabeth Weld 


" 12 


t t 


Valeria D. Foot 

New York 

" IO 



1 1 

Clara V. Bushnell 


" 17 



1 1 

R. Davis 


'• 18 




Louise E. de Cangue 

New York 

" 12 

100 " 



Sybil Emerson 


" 18 

69 - 

(See also pages 12 and 14.) 


St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. /oj. 
Time to hand in answers is up July 10. Prizes awarded in September number. 

/COMPETITION No. 103 is a 
training for young writers and 
artists. The object of it is to write 
a story and illustrate it by charac- 
ters or pictures cut from magazine 
advertisements. We shall limit the 
story to 1500 words, but it need 
not be so long if you prefer a 
shorter story and more pictures. 
We shall ask you to make one main 
picture, three smaller pictures 
(which should be simpler than the 
main illustration), and there may 
be also a pictorial initial and a pic- 
torial tail-piece. Please note that in 
this case there is no advantage 
gained by including many adver- 
tisements in your work. The idea 
is to make pictures that are striking, 
either because they are artistic in 
combination or strikingly amusing. 
The story may also be varied in 
this same way; it may be what you 
like — one of adventure, of romance, 
of humor, or of fancy. 

Two or more of you may work 
together if you choose, but of 
course there can be but one prize 
given if such a story deserves one. 

For the sake of the little girl 
who was thinking of something 
else, we will repeat, that you are 
to write a story of 1500 words or 
less, and to illustrate it with four 
pictures, one initial, and one tail- 
piece, these to be made by cutting- 

up advertisements. You need not 
submit a list of the advertisements 
or magazines, but the pictures must 
be made entirely from advertisement 
illustrations. Anybody may help 
you provided, they are not older 
than 100 years or younger than 2.